


Homeless at Home

by MissBlissWrites



Category: Red Dead Redemption, Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: 15 yr Old Arthur, Abuse, Angst, Build up, Canon, F/M, Female Reader, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, How They Met, Hurt/Comfort, I will add tags as as I go, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Miscarriage, Other, Past, Pre-Red Dead, Reader Insert, Reader-Insert, Series, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Super fucking angst train, Takes place when Arthur joins up with Dutch and Hosea, Then fluff, Unplanned Pregnancy, Young!ARTHUR, Young!Dutch, Young!Hosea, chapters, contains spoilers, head canon, lost of angst, mentions of abuse, young! Reader, young! arthur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2019-10-15 09:56:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 54,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17526566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissBlissWrites/pseuds/MissBlissWrites
Summary: Everything was perfect, your life was going in all the right directions until that awful night. Slaughtered like animals, you watched your parents die at the hands of masked strangers and managed to hide safely in your room. The cold winter closed in, and you were only a child. Left to rot and starve, you welcomed death. Destiney had other plans, however, and you were saved by a legend.Dutch Van Der Linde and his little gang of hooligans had come to save the day. Taken in by Dutch, saved from death, and given a second chance, your life has started all over again with new challenges, new enemies and ghosts from your past constantly coming back to haunt you.Through it all, Arthur Morgan is there by your side and you can't tell if you need him there or not. The life of an outlaw is calling, will you answer? Or will you run back to the only life you knew? It's time to decide.





	1. Greatness from Small Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I've been buzzing with headcanons about Young!Arthur and how he met Dutch and Hosea. I had so much that i wanted to make it into a fic! this is gonna be a multi-chapter story covering the time from when Arthur joined the gang, all the way up to a few years before the Blackwater heist! I've used a lot of canon information in here alongside my own headcanons. I hope you enjoy the story! Please let me know what you think! I would love to hear some of your own headcanons about Young!Arthur and the "Pre" gang!
> 
> You (The reader) will be introduced in a few chapters!! First, we need to learn about Arthur's backstory!!
> 
> The years and ages of everyone is canon info, that I have looked up and figured out myself.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr where you can find all my headcanons! (https://missblisswrites.tumblr.com/tagged/red+dead+redemption)

A groan rolled from his throat as his head pounded loudly. Each throb came from his hopeless heartbeat and filled his head with thoughts he couldn’t seem to keep running from anymore. He was so far gone that he laid his head on the bar, but he knew he needed to drink some more.

He waved an arm and yelled, “Another one!” while slapping some money down onto the bar. Arthur did his best to push himself to sit up straight, it was a lot harder than the last time he did it. Here he had found himself getting horribly drunk in the only saloon of a little town called Appleton. It was located in the armpit of a mountain in a warm valley that made the most of its money off logging and the vast orchards around it.

Arthur’s shaky hand clasped the tall whiskey glass and his stomach churned at the smell wafting into his face. He had to force himself to swallow the vomit that tried to escape. He hadn’t eaten anything yet today except for the alcohol he was drinking now. He hated this. He hated himself but he knew he had to drink more.

 _I ain’t sleeping in those damn stables again_ , he told himself. A cold early winter breeze swept in as the saloon doors were opened. Arthur shivered and had to fight from crying out in anger and sadness. He wasn’t nearly drunk enough to survive a night out there. He needed more booze in his blood to keep him warm enough to last the whole night.

As he took a large sloppy gulp of the whiskey, he thought to himself how awful his life was. He just couldn’t stop wallowing in his own self-pity. The poor kid was only 15 years old and he was already a stone cold killer. He felt regret for all the people he’s killed. Just a few days ago he murdered a rancher outside town to steal the money that he was using now. And the horse too. But the horse bucked him just outside of town and fled into the orchards. So now he was stuck here for a bit.

He tried to stay at the hotel but unfortunately, he got into a fight with the owner’s son on his first day in town. He was able to drink all he wanted in the saloon though, and he spent all his money there too. _Just like him…_ Arthur shook his head and pounded his fist in the bar, “I hate that bastard,” He whispered too himself. Thoughts of his father made his emotions jump back and forth between boiling rage and regret and deep depression. He wondered where his father was now, or if he was even alive. It’d been so many years since that drunk outlaw dropped him off, no... got arrested for  _larceny,_ in some city and left his own son for dead. Well… Arthur didn’t die. And he certainly wasn’t ever saved.

Thinking about his father got him longing to remember the good times, sadly he didn’t have many of those. The few good times he had were so far behind him and mostly lost in the dreams he had about his mother. He remembered her fondly, that she was kind to him and she loved him more than anything in the world. He wasn’t sure what her voice sounded like anymore, or what it use to smell like when she was cooking breakfast for him. Arthur did remember, however, that she used to sing to him all the time. She made good food, maybe… he wasn’t sure anymore. He was confused about the things she used to do outside of taking care of him, but he knew she did do something. Was is farming? Was it working? Was it making clothes? He couldn’t tell anymore, for all he knew she did all of those.

Arthur felt his heart grow more and more heavy. He was ready to give up his drink and leave to go sleep out in the cold, but a man sat down a few feet from him. He looked like a rat. His nose was short and pointed up, which matched well with his beady little eyes. The stranger looked over at Arthur and smiled.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” He said to the bartender. This made Arthur angry, he didn’t know why… But it made his moody teenage emotions flare up.

“What’s your problem?” Arthur glared at the stranger, his words sounded sloppy and slurred.

The stranger just looked over while lifting his own glass of whiskey once he got it, “What’s your problem?” He drank his liquor then set the glass down like some gentleman with manners, “Aren’t you a little young to be in here?”

“Fuck. You,” Arthur pointed his finger at him. There was no age restriction here. He obviously wasn't a kid. He was tall enough to be a man, but that didn't mean he was one. Arthur was ready to throw himself at this man and beat the shit out of him though if he kept looking at him like that.

The man who just didn’t seem to want to shut up shook his head and clicked his tongue a few times, “You’re an angry little bastard, aren’t ya?”

Oh… he did it now. Arthur slammed his glass down on the bar and got to his feet. Blood rushed to his head and the second he stood up the world started to spin. As he fell he felt something tug at the back of his belt. Arthur hit the ground with a crisp smack and thud on the hardwood floors. He instantly tried to get himself back up, but instead, he rolled over to his back and looked up.

There stood another ugly rat looking man. This one looked a little younger than the first stranger. His face had dark hair all over it with a well-trimmed mustache. 

“Watch your self there, son, I think you’ve had a little too much to drink,” His voice sounded like he smoked a pack a day.

Arthur’s blurry vision made it hard to focus on the new man. He was welled dressed and seemed to favor dark colors. Arthur squinted and tried his best to see, it was extremely hard but he did see one thing that didn’t seem right, “That’s my gun…” he whispered.

The man lifted a brow, “What?”

Arthur wobbled to his feet then screamed, “That’s my gun!!” He lunged himself at the man but was too slow. He quickly sidestepped and missed Arthur by a few inches. Arthur could hear him laughing, “This ain’t your gun, boy! Haha! What’s a kid like you need a gun for, hm?”

“It’s mine!” Everyone in the saloon was looking at them know. Arthur got back up to his feet a second time and stumbled in place, “What’s an old fuck like you need it for?”

The first man was behind him, grabbing him by his shoulder and holding him in place. Arthur tried to jerk away but this guy was stronger than he expected, “Calm down, son. You don’t want to cause no problems for this good man who’s been serving you all night,” Said the man. Arthur was confused and looked back at the bartender. He seemed more angry than scared, but he didn’t really care.

“Just give me my gun back. I know you took it, it’s in your hand, bastard…” 

The second man shook his head, “I don’t really think you’re in the right state of mind for this. Why don’t we go for a walk?”

What? The man walked past Arthur and the first guy let him go and followed what could only be his friend. Confused, and still unwilling to let his gun go, Arthur followed. He was very drunk, more so than he planned, but he could still think… a little bit. Not really. He was more so on autopilot and his body was too exhausted to put up much of a fight anymore. Honestly… he just wanted to roll into a ditch and die but he couldn’t really do that without his gun.

They stood outside in the cold. He didn’t notice until now but they both had warm jackets on while Arthur barely had rags of clothes to wear. At least he was drunk enough to ignore the chilly winter winds. They stood outside the saloon while the dark haired man lit himself a cigarette.

“What’s your name, kid?” He asked.

“Why?” Arthur quickly questioned him. This was strange. He’d never met people like them before, “Are you a conman?” Arthur blurted out, “You want my money?” he started to get angry, “Well I don’t have any. You want my clothes? I ain’t got much!” He started yelling and letting his temper get the better of him, “You want my gun? You want to take the only thing I got?” He remembered in the back of his head that he had more than the gun, he had a little bag hidden by the stables. However, he was lying and trying his best to get his gun back right now.

“Calm down, son,” The man raised his hands, “I’m just trying to talk to you. My name is Dutch van der Linde,” Arthur suddenly froze in his spot, “This is my friend,” He gestured to the other man.

“Hosea Mathews,” He gave a single wave of his hand but stayed behind Dutch.

Arthur felt his angry bubbled down a bit, not by a whole lot, but it went down enough for him to stop yelling, “Why are you trying to talk to me. What do you want?”

Arthur knew who this man was. Not personally, but he’s heard the name from lawmen he’s stolen from, and other lawmen he’s be caught by. Dutch van der Linde was an outlaw. Not that much of one, he committed small crimes. Mostly robberies were no one saw him steal anything. He knew about Hosea Mathews too. Dutch’s partner in crime, and extremely good con artist. This man had a lot of friends in a lot of places.

Dutch had finished his cigarette and tossed it into the street, “You gonna tell me your name?”

He hesitated but then he finally said, “Arthur…”

“Got a last name, son?”

“Morgan.”

“Well then hello, Arthur Morgan,” Dutch gave him a slight nod of his head what looked like a genuine smile.

“You still haven’t answered my damn questions.” 

Hosea stepped forward slightly, “You look like you need some help. We’ve been watching you since we got here. I’ve never seen a kid getting as drunk as you so late at night,”

“So?” Arthur snapped at him, “My life is none of your business!” 

Hosea slightly raised his hands in defense, “I’m not saying it is. You don’t have to say nothing about anything.”

Arthur wasn’t quite sure what to say, “So you stole my gun… To get me to come outside and… talk to me?”

Dutch started to laugh and shook his head, “No. I was trying to steal your gun!” He then tossed it back to Arthur, who barely caught it, “But I didn’t think you’d be such a sad case,” He was still chuckling, “I thought it’d be nice to help an unfortunate little kid. I wish someone helped me when I was your age.”

The pity party caused Arthur to get angry. Again. He simply had no control over his emotional roller coaster ride, “I don’t need your help,”

“You really look like you could use it,” Dutch said, “We got a nice warm cabin just outside of town with food there,”

The sound of a warm room sounded like heaven to Arthur. And food? God that would be even better. He got his gun back, but he didn’t seem to be finding himself willing to go with these guys yet. Or even at all really. He remembered what he told himself every day. _I don’t need anyone. And no one needs me._

He pushed past them both and walked into the night, “I don’t need your help,” he said again. He felt like he was ready to collapse and even though he knew who they were, he didn’t trust these outlaws. He was an outlaw himself, he knew what they were like. Outlaws didn’t have morals, they didn’t have lives. They were criminals and they were awful people. Just like him. He left them, not looking back, and stumble to the place he said he wouldn’t good.

The town horse stables smelled awful. It made him puke when he snuck inside and was greeted with a wall of horse manure. He found a place up in the loft of the barn. The hay was warm yet hard and brittle. He found his little bag of things right were he left it. Inside was a photo of his mother and then another one of his dad. And a book he didn’t know how to read. Those were all he had to his name.

The strange night made him feel weird in his own skin, and his heart sank. Maybe he should have taken the offer Dutch gave him? He shook his head and told himself to never depend on anyone. The liquor still in his blood brought the worst out in him. He had to admit he was lonely too. As he fell asleep, the world kept spinning and along with it his thoughts. They spiraled down a slope into a sadness that infected his dreams. That night he dreamed about his mother, and for a bit in his dreams, he happy.


	2. And so Greatness Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well?” Dutch’s voice brought him back to the table, “What do you say, Mr. Morgan? Will you join us?”
> 
> Everything still felt a little weird… but not bad. Just new and different. Strange but good. When he looked around the table, he found himself no longer around strangers but friendly folk who wanted to offer nothing but kindness to him.
> 
> He nodded his head, looking at every one of them, “Alright,” He said, “I’m in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo~! Here is the next chapter!!  
> Now that we know a little more about Arthur, we can start getting to the good stuff. And that's you!! Only two more chapters till MC is introduced!  
> Stay tuned for more!!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr! (missblisswrites.tumblr.com)

Arthur woke up that morning in a cold sweat that morning. His stomach was in horrible pain. It felt like there was a small creature in there eating him alive. He sat up, groggy and nauseous. He barely remembered the events of last night, but he did remember Dutch and his snooty friend Hosea. Arthur decided to lay there in his little hay bed for a few moments, trying to soak in the daylight.

 _What am I going to do?_ He asked himself. _I don’t_ got _any money… no food…_ His stomach roared out at the thought of food. Maybe he should find Dutch. No! No! I won’t do it! He was torn between his need to eat and his pride. Arthur got up and swung his satchel around his neck. The photo of his parents and his mother’s book sat snug inside. He decided the first thing he was going to do was to find some food.

He left the stables unseen and wandered into the back ends of Appleton. There had to be some fruit lying around. This was a wine and orchard town. It was almost winter though, so nothing was rip and if there was anything left it wasn’t good. Arthur found himself behind the general store rummaging through the trash. He found some old bread and a few strips of meat. He couldn’t complain. It was awful and it made him feel even sicker. While he was busy trying not to puke all over the place, he thought about how desperately he needed a horse.

Arthur looked around town, walking up and down the little muddy streets. There wasn’t a horse in sight that he could take. Each one was either too big for him or well-watched within the eyes of the law. With a huff, he grabbed into the belt of his satchel and gave up.

It was time to leave Appleton. Head south. Escape the winter in warmer lands and then hope that somehow he makes a name for himself.

As he walked himself out of town, he saw a train rolling in at the station. He got an idea. Maybe he could sneak on the train? He’d done it before. But that’s how he ended up here so far north. He didn’t want to run that chance again. Sneaking on a train means you don’t know where you're going. He at least wanted a little bit of control in his life of chaos right now and sneaking on a train wouldn’t help him with that.

So it was settled. He stuck to walking himself out of town and into the woods. If he stuck to the road, maybe he could find a house to rob? He knew he couldn’t rob any house in town, but one well in the woods and good ride away from the law? Well… that was a piece of cake.

About after an hour of heading in the direction he hoped was south, Arthur had finally found a little house off the beat path. Score!! He couldn’t see inside because it was still daylight out so he got closer to the windows to peek in. Standing on his tiptoes, Arthur peered into the cabin.

He couldn’t see much. A table, some cabinets, a dead fireplace, and two rooms he couldn’t see in. It looked quite dead in there, but the chance of him finding some food or money pushed him to break into the cabin. He found a window unlocked and jammed it open. Arthur crawled inside and tripped on his way in, smacking his face hard on the ground. He cried out, nearly forgetting that he was breaking an entering and he didn’t know if someone was in here or not. When no one came rushing in to kill him, he got up and rubbed his sore face.

There was more to find in here than he thought. He just had to look really hard. He must have hit the jackpot. No one was home, the place was well stocked, and he even found a bed he could sleep in. His brain told him he couldn’t stay here long, he had to grab what he could and go. But a sick twisted part of his heart told him to stay, and just kill the owner when they got home. He choose the later option, doing so would buy him at least another week of living, despite staying within the reaches of Appleton.

Arthur downed a few cans of beans, enjoyed his warmth, then sat himself down outside the front window that watched the road. About two hours went by until someone finally showed up. Arthur was ready to kill an ugly old man, but the owner of the house appeared to be a plump young woman.

She was dressed in all black, with a coat the dragged down in the dirt. Her hair was just as black as her clothes and she had a mean face for a young lady. Arthur found himself struggling to kill a woman and a woman who appeared to be a widow. There wasn’t a back door to run out and the window he came in was in view of the road. He was stuck. Panicking, he ran into one of the rooms and hid his awkward lanky body under the master bed.

 _What am I going to do? Dammit!_ Arthur could hear the woman come in. Her heels clicked along the floorboards. She walked around, stopped, walked around some more, then stopped again. It was hard to admit, but he was scared. I _should have just fucking left. I should just… I should just kill her!_

However, unknown to Arthur… he was already caught. The woman had noticed footsteps by her unlocked window that was closed. She saw some cans of food left out. She wasn’t stupid. She followed the wet footprints into her room. Arthur froze under the bed. Watching her shoes walk around the room. He tried not to worry, he kept telling himself, I’m fine. I’m fine. I have a gun and she doesn’t.

But he was wrong again. He heard the pump of a shotgun, “Get up,” her voice was high and snippy, “I know you’re under there you ugly little vermin! Get up now before I ruin my bed to kill you,”

He was found out. Arthur grumbled and fought with himself in his head. He had never done a break in so sloppy. The lack of food and warmth was finally getting to him, making his mind weak and frantic.

“I’m coming out!” Arthur’s voice cracked a little, making him sound like a scared kid, “D-don’t shoot. I’m… I’m getting up,” He crawled out from under the bed coming face to face with the woman.

She looked a little older now that he got a closer look. Her furrowed brows and narrow eyes gave her a powerful face. Arthur could feel his luck fading.

The woman shoved the barrel of her shotgun right into Arthur’s chest, “Should I even let you go?” She asked, “You think I should listen to a little rotten boy who broke into my house?”

Was she really asking him that? Arthur wasn’t sure what to say, he was more worried about the gun on him, “I-I…I was just. It’s cold outside… I’m not from around here,”

“That’s for sure,” She kept the gun on him, “What’s your name?”

“I don’t have a name, ma’am,” That got him a jab of the gun. It hurt when she shoved it further into his chest. It was a warning. Arthur shot his hands up and nearly shivered at the sound of his own weak voice, “It’s A-Arthur!”

She suddenly started pulling the gun away, but kept it pointed at him, “Arthur Morgan?”

 _What_? Arthur’s eyes shot wide, “How do you know my name?”

The woman finally lowered her gun and started to unbutton her coat. She had very nice clothes on, though still all in black. She was quite busty and looked like she had birthed many children, “I’m Susan,” She said. Arthur followed her out of the room and into the open part of the cabin, “Susan Grimshaw. I am one of Dutch van der Linde’s mistresses,”

 _No… way…_ Arthur’s mind began to boggle. Did he really just break into Dutch’s cabin that was offered to him just the other night? There was no way, yet here he was. How did this happen? He asked himself, feeling embarrassed and confused, Arthur stood in place and watch Susan clean up the very obvious mess he left. How did he become so sloppy? This was an all new low for him.

“So…” Arthur quietly started, “Dutch lives here?”

“Not really,” Susan looked back at him. Her dark eyes bore right into his soul. He felt uncomfortable under her gaze, “We killed the man who did live here though. We’ve been here since,”

“Why didn’t you kill me?” Arthur blurted out. He was wondering why he wasn’t dead yet and if he could get there anytime soon.

Susan opened her mouth, then closed it. She turned around and went to a little iron fire place and open the door. She threw in a couple logs and started a fire, heating up the stove’s top so she could put a tea pot there. When she gestured for Arthur to take a seat, he hesitated before sitting across from her at the table.

“Dutch told me something about… Uh-Uh… A young boy who looked like he was wishing the devil would smite him down on his spot. Said his name was Arthur Morgan. Said you might show up too.”

A spark of rage flashed in Arthur’s chest. Dutch was expecting him to show up? Was he as arrogant as he looked, “He doesn’t know me,” Arthur crossed his arms.

“No,” Susan clicked her tongue, “But it doesn’t take a second glance to see you are a suffering young man,”

“You don’t know me either,” He snapped.

“No,” She said again, her voice changed and Arthur felt himself being put in his place, “I don’t know you. But I do know when I see an unruly child with no manors. I know when I see someone who doesn’t know right from wrong. I see some kid who can barely hold a gun, with a temper to big for his body, and story he doesn’t want to share.”

Snow had started to fall outside, making the sky grow dark. Susan got up and lit some lanterns and made herself some tea. She even offered Arthur a mug, to which he took and held tightly in both his hands.

He didn’t know what to say. He felt like she was picking apart his life, and she was right about most of it. This was the first time since his father was arrested had anyone really put him in his place. It felt weird, not wrong or bad. But… It felt different. It felt like being a kid almost. He wasn’t sure how to even be a kid, let alone feel like one.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur stared down at the brown tea in the mug, “I’m sorry I broke into your house,” He really felt like a little kid. When was the last time he even apologized for anything?

Even Susan looked a little surprised mid-sip of her tea. She set down her mug and offered a smile, “I’m sorry for threatening to kill you,” She then cackled a bit like a witch, her laugh was crooked and carried some weird wisdom with it, “I wasn’t gonna shoot a kid anyways, I’m no monster,” Yet somehow Arthur thought she was hiding something worse than a monster behind that charming smile.

The front door had slowly swung open cause both Susan and Arthur to look that way. Holding a lantern up by his face, Arthur could see Dutch walking in. The man of many words and not enough explanations.

Upon seeing Susan and of all people, Arthur, in his hideaway cabin, Dutch did something Arthur never saw coming.

He smiled. He smiled wide and laughed, “Hoho! Oh my lord! Hosea will you look at this!” He was… happy? Why was Dutch van der Linde happy to see the orphan boy he tried to rob?

Arthur was so confused. He felt hot shame bubble in his gut though. It was so weird, and different. He’d never in his life had someone…. Happy…. To see him.

Hosea walked in and closed the door behind him, thus shutting away the growing winter weather. He too smiled when he saw Arthur. They both looked elated, and more than happy to see him in their makeshift home.

“Why it is so good to see you,” Dutch took off his heavy winter coat and threw it onto the back of a chair, “How are you, Arthur? What has brought you out to see us?”

There it was again, embarrassment. Arthur lowered his gaze and fingered his mug of cold tea. What was this feeling? It was so unfamiliar to him. He felt like he just got caught doing something he shouldn’t have but he was being greeted with open arms.  
Since he didn’t speak up, Susan stepped in, “The little bastard was robbing us. Didn’t have a clue we were even here,”

“Really?” Hosea lifted a brow. Both him and Dutch pulled up a seat at the table. Everyone had their own side. Susan across from Arthur and Hosea across from Dutch, “Now I’d call that pure luck,”

The adults laughed. Arthur becomes hyper-aware that he was, in fact, a child at a table full of adults. He may have been 15, and welled considered his own person, but he felt something odd he’d never felt before. Safety. He had no idea why, or even how but he felt safe at this table. All of them chit chatted about Arthur like he wasn’t there though. It didn’t bother him, they weren’t saying anything mean. Just how lucky and funny the situation was. Arthur thought it was just plain bizarre.

“Well,” Dutch’s voice brought Arthur out of his thoughts, “Now that you are here, Arthur. Would you consider my offer a second time?”

Confused, Arthur asked, “And what’s that?” This time he was sober. Maybe with a sober mind, Arthur could rationally think without his pride and stubbornness getting in the way.

He didn’t look, but he could hear the kindness and smile in Dutch’s voice as he spoke, “Would you like to stay with us for a while? You really seem like you could use a bed to sleep in, some meals to eat,”

It just didn’t make sense. Why did Dutch want to help him? Why on earth would anyone ever want to help an orphan boy who was too old to be taken care of anymore?

This world demanded that people grow up and that they grow up fast. Yet here Dutch was, offering him some peace and a break from the world.

“Why?” He still had to ask. One part of Arthur -the tired broken part- wanted so badly to believe in and trust Dutch. But the paranoid, stubborn part told him to be hesitant. He’s not stupid, this world is full of bad people. He just didn’t know which one Dutch was yet. Good? Bad? Ugly? He didn’t know.

“Like I said, son, I wish I had someone to help me when I was your age,” The answer was far more simple and less complex than Arthur expected. He was about to ask again but Dutch just went on talking, “I remember living like an animal. I’m sure you are. You don’t look like you’ve had a bath in days,”

 _It’s actually been years_ , Arthur said in his head, “You look like a stick. You look like you’ve seen things you shouldn’t have seen. I don’t pity you, Arthur, this isn’t pity telling me to offer you some help. It’s just the right thing to do,”

 _The right thing to do_. He had never heard that before. It struck a chord in him. It broke his heart and put it back together. He was stunned in his place as his heart warmed inside his chest. This was the real deal, wasn’t it? It really was? No games? No fooling?

 ** _The right thing to do_**. It kept ringing in his head. To help him was the right thing to do. He could understand that. It wasn’t complex, it a bargain or blackmail or some trick.

It was honest. Nobody has ever been honest with him. Arthur felt himself get far more emotional than he expected. He wanted to cry. He felt a part of himself finally let go and breathe for the first time in what seemed like years. He could finally just be. He could stop surviving and perhaps start living.

“Well?” Dutch’s voice brought him back to the table, “What do you say, Mr. Morgan? Will you join us?”

Everything still felt a little weird… but not bad. Just new and different. Strange but good. When he looked around the table, he found himself no longer around strangers but friendly folk who wanted to offer nothing but kindness to him.

He nodded his head, looking at every one of them, “Alright,” He said, “I’m in.”


	3. Far from Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur didn’t even have to ask, Dutch handed the cigarette to Arthur, “You remember what to do?”
> 
> The cigarette was hot and burned his throat. The nicotine made him a little light-headed, but he liked it, “Yep,” he coughed a few times, “Use knives and get up to the hatch on the roof of that car,” He pointed at a gray car at the very end of the train. Arthur’s voice cracked a bit but he blamed it on the cigarette, “Grab as much as we can and run,”
> 
> Dutch gave Arthur a smile and a hard pat on the back that made him cough again, “Good,” He took his cigarette and pulled a cloud of smoke in like it was nothing. He laughed in a low tone that rumbled like thunder, “Let’s get this show on the road, son,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here is chapter three, sorry if it's like... not good. I wasn't feeling this chapter. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!!  
> Next chapter is when MC/Reader is finally introduced! I'm not sure if I want to switch the POV once MC/Reader is brought in. Please let me know what you guys think? Should I keep it third person or make it second person??
> 
> Follow me on tumblr!! (missblisswrites.tumblr.com)

 The sun wasn’t that hot, not if he stayed in the little shade the sheet gave him. He stared up at the white thin fabric fluttering in the wind, tied down at each corner by a pole.

Arthur tried his best to ignore the heat and his boredom at the same time. Crows cawed overhead like this camp was abandoned and filled with the dead. Close, but no. There was no end to his suffering, was there? He hated waiting, baking in the heat, for when they’d return. Several months had passed since Dutch Van der Linde had plucked Arthur from the streets. Life in the gang was very different than life on his own. For starters, Arthur had a meal every day and a bed every night. He had clean clothes that -yes he had to wash- but they were better than rags. Hosea was even teaching him how to do math, read and write.

Sadly the “Adults” didn’t think Arthur was really ready to join them on their illegal escapades. He was instead tasked with watching over camp and working on his vocabulary.

The only plus side to staying back in camp was that no one was around to tell him what to do.

Arthur got up from his little chair and started walking around camp. There was a tree at the center, small and dying, were Arthur could sit in the shade and by the fire. He chose to walk over to his own tent, snug between Hosea and Dutch’s own personal spaces. It wasn’t much, just a little tent on the ground with a bed in it. He had some boxes under his bed that he pulled out and started to dig into. He found his mother’s journal and started to read it the best he could.

A lot of words didn’t make look right, and it was hard to read her poor handwriting. But he saw his name a lot. He could read a bit about how much she loved him. How cute of a baby he was, how she was excited to see him grow up. She wanted to teach him how to read but she couldn’t find the time because she was working. Never once however did she write about his father.

While Arthur was squinting over the pages of his mother’s book, he could hear the low hum of horse hooves along the desert. They were back. He caught them just as they slowed and dismounted. Susan seemed pissed, like always, and didn’t take long to B-line to her spot under the tree where she kept her liquor. Dutch didn’t seem like talking either, he seemed angry in some way.

It was up to Hosea to explain the tension in the air. Arthur approached him with caution, afraid he might be told to run along. It may have been a few months, but he was still unsure of these people, “How’d the robbery go?” He asked slowly.

Hosea cleared his throat and kept his gaze fixed on hitching his horse to the post, “Not good,” He was never one for details, “We didn’t much,” Hosea moved to the satchel on his horse, dug around inside and pulled out small but complicated lockbox.

Arthur had never seen anything like it. When Hosea handed it to him, it was lighter than he expected, “This was it?”

“Yep,” Hosea pressed his lips thin and spoke his next words quietly, “Dutch is not happy with this. We can’t get the damn thing open and he owes Colm some money,”  
Oh that would make sense. Arthur gave a slight nod of his head, “What are you guys gonna do?”

Laughter slipped into Hosea’s words, “Get the damn thing open!” He seemed overly optimistic with a hint of sarcasm. He pointed to the top of the lockbox and Arthur noticed the two keyholes, “I’m gonna pick these,” Then he pointed to the safe lock, “And hopefully crack this too,”

“Can I help?” It was hard to ask that question, but Arthur did it anyways, “I know how to pick locks,” He remembered his times on the streets, “I use to break into people’s house a lot,”

Hosea looked slightly surprised but then smiled. He looked pleased to hear that, “Sure, of course!” They walked over to the tabled in the shade provided by the sheet. While

Hosea went off to find some tools he left the box with Arthur. He looked it over, up and down and on each side. It was a light green and looked like it was crafted for the military. Arthur brought the box up to his ear and shook it slightly. Something shuffled around inside. What on earth could it be? Money? Cash? It didn’t sound like a lot. It sounded more like two or three papers. Maybe a dozen. He wasn’t totally sure.

When Hosea returned he had the tools to pick open some locks. He gave Arthur a pair and asked him, “You know what to do?”

His face was blank for a second but then Arthur nodded, “Yeah you just…” He picked up a long skinny thing with a ninety degree angled hook at the end, “Take this and this,”

He picked up another skinny looking pick, “You jam this one in the bottom as a tension wrench and wiggle this around trying to pick the lock,” Arthur felt himself start to get nervous because Hosea was just staring at him, “Right?”

A low but humble laugh came from Hosea, “Yes, just like that. You got the basics,” Hosea picked up his own tools, “You wanna do this one? I’ll get the other one,” No time was wasted getting to the locks. Arthur would dart his gaze between his hands and Hosea’s.

While his hands were young, they were cut up and covered in scars. They didn’t look that different from Hosea’s hands. Broken, beaten, rough and dirty. Working on this together made Arthur feel useful for the first time in a long time. Every time he slipped up and had to start over, Hosea would say something like, “It’s alright. Tough huh? I’ve lost it twice already,” then laugh like he was remembering something from the past.

After a few minutes, Hosea asked an odd question, “Have you ever gone fishing… Arthur?”

He never had, no. Arthur wasn’t sure what to say so he shrugged, “Never wanted too,”

Hosea put down his tools and caused Arthur to do the same, “You want to go fishing tomorrow?” How strange of a question. Why would he want to do that? Was there even a place to go fishing out here in a sandy waterless world?

“What about the lockbox?” He sounded so dumbfounded. Arthur cleared his throat then spoke again more clearly, “I-I thought Dutch needed what was in here?”

“We can’t work on this forever,” Hosea warned, “We’ll keep trying for now. We have all day tomorrow too, but you can really only go fishing at dawn,” He wasn’t going to let this thing go, was he?

Arthur didn’t really see a downside to this anyways, “What time do we need to wake up?” He picked up his tools again and went back to wriggling the lock open.  
Hosea did the same, but he did so with a small and tiny grin on his face, “Before the sunrise. Maybe around five,”

That sounded awful, “Alright,” Arthur said, “Fishing it is,” He felt a little odd. Hopeful maybe, or scared. Or just awkward at feeling things in general. It was awful being his age. He was supposed to be a man by now but he was so far behind. He couldn’t read all too well. He barely understood math. He couldn’t really shoot a gun but he did good enough to kill someone if he had too. Yeah, he could pick locks… but nothing like this.

In the background, he could hear Dutch talking to Susan. Something he tried to keep out of his hearing range. Susan was his mistress of some kind. Dutch loved women, he loved talking to them in a certain voice that caused them to swoon. Sometimes Arthur wanted to have that power. But his lanky body and cracking voice made that impossible.

The sun in the sky had started making its way to the horizon. Little progress was being made on the two keyholes. Hosea had switched to cracking the spin dial safe lock. He wouldn’t let up on that thing, even as Susan made food and demanded that they all ate together. Like some family. Somehow Hosea didn’t have to eat dinner that night.

Arthur sat by the fire with Susan and Dutch. They were talking about what could be in the lockbox. What they’d tell Colm. How much money they needed before moving again. What to do with their other ‘business partners’ and such. He wasn’t really paying much attention until there was a yell.

“I figured it out!” All eyes were on Hosea, “I think I got it! Dutch! Come here!”

It was like a bomb went off. Everyone dropped what they were doing and ran over to Hosea. Dutch’s eyes darted around, “What is it?”

“I know how to unlock it,” Hosea shook a hand slowly, “It-it needs to be unlocked at the same time. All three of them,” He pointed to the safe lock, “The code for this is 15-25-6, and I figured out these. Arthur, son, help me will you?”

With shaky hands, Arthur got to work. He felt incredibly nervous like he was going to mess up this somehow. He followed Hosea’s instructions and did as told while Dutch got to working on the safe lock, “On the count of three,” Hosea said slowly, “One,” Arthur stared hard at his lock, “Two,” He could barely begin to guess what was in here, “Three.”

The lockbox popped out with a loud _click_! A latch came undone inside and the box lid came jolted open. Dutch pushed everyone to the side and made room for himself. He looked at everyone, Arthur, Hosea, and Susan, gaze darting between them. He took his time as he slowly placed his hands on either side of the lid, “Friends,” he said in a low voice, “Let’s hope this is something good,”

He flipped open the lid and inside the box was a stack of cash beside an envelope. There had to be a thousand dollars there. Dutch smiled and began to laugh, “What do we have here?” he tossed the cash to Hosea who was just as giddy.

Dutch tore open the letter and read it out loud, “Dear…. Mr. Ferguson…” His grin grew larger and he eyed everyone, “I’m so pleased to have done business with you. You have indeed keep your promise and in that regard. I thank you. As promised in my return I have sent the rest of your share to Dale Creek. There you will find the rest of your money, and gold from the mines aboard your train awaiting you at the station this Friday at 9:00 pm. Please enjoy my personal passenger car as you have a long trip ahead of you. Get back to me as soon as you can. Sincerely, Mr. Wells.”

The air was extremely thick and silent. Arthur could barely grasp the situation. Here they had a thousand dollars and more… just waiting at a train station? Gold…?!

“That’s tonight,” Susan said, “In three hours. It’ll take at least one to get to Dale Creek,”

“Then we have to go,” Dutch made it sound like that wasn’t even a decision.

“We don’t know how many men there will be there,” Susan just loved poking holes in plans. But that’s why she was here, wasn’t she? “Three people can’t do much,”

There was a split second of silence before Dutch said, “We’ll bring Arthur. We can not let something like this slip between our hands,”

Susan looked like she really wanted to protest. Arthur was extremely glad when she didn’t. Everything was happening so fast. One second he was at a table being handed guns, the next he was on a horse tailing behind Dutch. This was it…. This was his first heist.. his first robbery with the gang. He was actually doing it!

Adrenaline pumped through his veins and suffocated his heart in a throbbing buzz. Arthur’s mind went a thousand thoughts a second. This wasn’t anything like his petty thefts in the city. It was an attack. He could see the lights of Dale creek off in the distance. As it got closer he could feel himself grip the reins tighter.

Dale creek was a very small town. It had a store, some stables, and a train station. There wasn’t even a sheriff’s office, or a bank or jail. This place was just a dot on the dusty map of the desert. They hitched their horses a bit outside of the town. Dutch made the plan very clear, Hosea and Susan would go to the station, create a distraction so that he and Arthur could sneak on the train and steal as much money as they could. Hosea suspected that much money would be in a safe car and well guarded.

He didn’t want to admit it, but Arthur was extremely nervous. He felt a fear he’d never known before. The fear of failure. The train came exactly when the letter said it would. He and Dutch sat waiting in the bushes while Susan and Hosea did their thing. Dutch sparked up a cigarette, there was a deep scowl on his face.

Arthur didn’t even have to ask, Dutch handed the cigarette to Arthur, “You remember what to do?”

The cigarette was hot and burned his throat. The nicotine made him a little light-headed, but he liked it, “Yep,” he coughed a few times, “Use knives and get up to the hatch on the roof of that car,” He pointed at a gray car at the very end of the train. Arthur’s voice cracked a bit but he blamed it on the cigarette, “Grab as much as we can and run,”

Dutch gave Arthur a smile and a hard pat on the back that made him cough again, “Good,” He took his cigarette and pulled a cloud of smoke in like it was nothing. He laughed in a low tone that rumbled like thunder, “Let’s get this show on the road, son,”

With their faces covered with bandanas and knives ready to kill, Dutch and Arthur made their way towards the train. In the distance, there was the sound of arguing. It was

Susan and Hosea. The stood in the train station screaming at each other like a bitter married couple, drunk and ready for divorce. The few guards on the train took the bait inside. They left their posts to go see what was happening.

Following Dutch, Arthur made it onto the train. Dutch climbed up the side and got to the roof, “Come on,” He held his hand down for Arthur to grab. He hoisted him up and they made their way over to the opening of the safe car.

The latch was heavy and opened with a loud scream. Someone inside the car started talking and asking what was going on. Dutch was quick about that, he slid inside the car and a loud thud immediately followed. Keeping sure to keep the latch door open, Arthur fell inside the dark hollow car. There was a lantern on the ground that provided the only light.

“Holy… Hell,” He looked over to see Dutch with bars of gold in each hand, “Arthur… I think we struck gold!” He started to laugh and threw them inside the bag he got, “Oh we are going to make it now, Arthur. Get some! Go one! Get the cash from those drawers!”

There was more money in here than Arthur could have ever imagined. He easily counted up to ten grand in cash, plus a dozen bars of gold that Dutch was gathering, “What are we going to do with all thing money, Dutch?”

“Gonna pay Colm, first. Then find someplace to lay low, store all this money someplace safe. Maybe head north to Montana territory or Washington,”

“Hosea want to go to California,” Arthur said, he wanted to add he did too. California seemed so nice and so far away.

“I know. There’s to much law the-” Dutch’s words got cut off. There was a thud on the roof of the car. Footsteps echoed throughout the darkness and stopped right in front of the hatch.

“Someone left this thing open,”

“Close it, we don’t need no one getting in there,”

It happened in seconds, but Arthur saw it in slow motion. Their only way out was slammed shut and locked in place. The moonlight that has once leaked in like water was gone and replaced by the low warmth of the lanterns.

Dutch dropped everything in his hands and yelled out, “No! God dammit!” He climbed up the latter and started smashing his hands on the door. What the hell just happened? Arthur picked up the lantern and looked around for another way to escape.

He couldn’t see anything. Just when it couldn’t have gotten any worse, the train tugged forward. The force caused Arthur to fall to his knees. Dutch jumped down and ran over to one of the steel walls, “Hosea!!” His screams were harsh and raspy, “Hosea!! Stop the train!!” Arthur was so shocked he couldn’t move. The second time the train jerked, he stood up and ran over to the same wall as Dutch.

“Hosea!! Susan!! Someone get us out!” Their pleas fell on deaf ears. The engine of the train roared to life and nothing could be heard over that. There wasn’t much oil left in the lantern.

Arthur felt himself grow cold as the train pulled out of the station. Here they had all this money but now they were good as dead. Where the hell was this train going? When was it going to stop and who was going to open that door next? How were they going to get out of here alive?


	4. A Pleasure to Meet You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dutch put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder and gave a squeeze. He had this sad look on his eyes and he said, “You know what to do,” And walked away to finish taking care of the parents of this poor girl. Arthur held the girl as she cried and thought about Dutch’s words.
> 
> ....Because it’s the right thing to do.
> 
> He had to pry her away from him. She held on like it meant life or death. It was so bizarre because he was a total and complete stranger to this girl but she had gone from hating him to loving him in just a second. He could never see himself trusting someone so easily. Then again he wasn’t a child anymore.
> 
> “What’s your name, miss?” 
> 
> She rubbed her eyes to clear away her tears, “(Y-y/n)… (L/n)…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I had to get this chapter put up because I had so much fun writing it!! Reader/MC is here!!  
> I will have the next chapter up very soon!! The next chapter will also be in second person POV!! Future chapters will go back and forth between Reader/MC and Arthur!! Things are about to get really good!! I can't wait to get the good parts when you and Arthur start falling in love~~ That's so far away still >:) Have fun reading until then.
> 
> Please tell me what you think! Follow me on tumblr!! ((missblisswrites.tumblr.com))

How long… has it been? The lantern was barely flickering alive. It could die any second. This train just didn’t want to stop. As each moment passed, whether it was an hour or a few minutes, it got colder and colder stuck in that train car. It had to have been more than 20 hours, possibly more. Arthur was tried, he couldn’t sleep. He was hungry and regretted not eating much the day before.

Dutch was sitting beside him with blood covered fists. He took the rings off his swollen knuckles. It had been so long that his wounds had scabbed over, rock hard. He punched the walls so hard trying to escape that he was pretty sure he broke a finger. He couldn’t feel it though, so it didn’t matter that much.

There was a God though because Dutch had a flask he kept in the pocket of his vest. So it wasn’t all that bad, “Should of brought a book,” He joked while passing the rum to Arthur.

Arthur chuckled, “Yeah, like I can even really read one,” His voice dripped with dark humor as he tried to laugh at his own shame. The satchel at Arthur’s side had burned him with the thoughts of the book he had in there. It was his mother’s journal so there was no way he was going to share that with Dutch, “If only Hosea was here… He has that stupid pocket watch on him he stole from that funeral.”

They both chuckled at the memory. That was a very unfortunate day… for the family they robbed. Well, Dutch and Hosea robbed them while Susan provided get away. Arthur got to watch from where they left him near a saloon, he had only been with them a few weeks at the time. He was the one that found out that tip that a funeral was happening soon and told Dutch about it. 

A shiver cut Arthur’s memories in half. The cold started to become painful. He looked to Dutch you seemed unfazed, “Can I have some more of that rum?” Dutch passed him the flask, and to Arthur’s surprise, it wasn’t empty.

He took a swig and cringed as the dark liquor burned on the way down. Thankfully it warmed his belly and soon the rest of his body too. The cold was still a problem, just less of one for now.

“Where do you think we are headed, Dutch?”

The older man took in a deep breath and brought his hand up to his chin, “North. That’s for sure. It’s February. It’s not spring yet. But I know its only this cold up in the most northern parts of this god damn country around this time of year.” 

Arthur let those word sink in. How far north was north, “Like… Illinois?”

Dutch shook his head.

“….Ohio?”

Another no.

“How far, Dutch?”

Before he could answer the train’s whistle called out while bells rang. They were coming to a stop. Dutch and Arthur shared a glance and stood up at the same time. They had been sitting so long though, Arthur could barely feel his legs. The cold rushed in again and Arthur wobbled forward. Dutch caught him before he could fall. 

Dutch pushed Arthur towards the front of the car so they were hidden in the dark corners behind the ladder. There was an unsettling scream as the breaks of the tracks fought against the cold. There was an echo that rang far and wide that Arthur could hear even inside the steal and iron car. His gut told him he was far from home, and his heart hoped his gut was wrong.

Several minutes passed while the listened to muffled yelling. It made Arthur’s heart sink every time he heard a burst of powerful wind slam against the train. Finally, after what felt like forever, someone had started walking above. The hatch was slowly peeled open and as light pooled in from the cold snowy world outside, Dutch and Arthur held their knives close. If they could get out of here without making a sound, they could probably live to see another day.

A man started climbing down the latter. He was covered in layers of clothes. Arthur shivered and held back groan when the icy winds whooshed inside. The man didn’t see them, but he saw the mess they made. He started to call for one of his friends but he was cut off as Dutch jumped forward and slit his throat. Thanks to the corners of darkness, Dutch and Arthur could hide from sight. His friend was already on his way coming down the ladder so Arthur was forced to be smart. Staying unseen, Arthur waited for the second man to get to the ground. He jumped from the side and tackled the man to the ground, stabbing him quickly in the neck while covering his mouth to muffle his screams.

Bloody and cold, they took the chance to swap clothes with these guards. It felt nice to put on heavier clothes. Too bad they had blood on them. It didn’t matter at this point.

They weren’t doing this to blend in they were doing it to stay warm. Dutch was torn between taking the money or the gold bars. He knew he’d need as much as he could to get them back to the open west. He hated the thought of not having enough to take back home to Hosea and Susan.

He chose the money. It was the easiest to hide. He stuffed as much as he could in each pocket and had Arthur do the same. They had about a thousand each on them. There was thousands more they had to leave behind. There was no way they could walk around hauling bags and satchels full of money without horses to escape on.

Dutch climbed up the latter, keeping his pistol ready to fire if need be. He poked his head outside and had to squint at the blinding whiteness that was his view. The sun was in the middle of the sky and slowly rising. He looked around and noticed they were stationed at a town that was busy despite the weather. No one was around so Dutch took this as the chance to escape. He waved Arthur to climb up while he kept watch, “Go!” He whispered, “Jump down in the snow, get as much blood off you!”

Arthur nodded and crawled to the side of the train. The jump intimidated him but he didn’t have any other choice. He flung himself into the snow and hoped it would break his fall. It did, but not really. His knees buckled when his feet crashed into the icy ground under a couple feet of snow. He was knee deep in snow and he fell to his side in pain. At least he was getting the blood off him.

Dutch landed less gracefully than Arthur but fought through the pain. He brushed snow up and down the dark coat he was wearing. Arthur was unfortunately in a gray coat so it was harder to hide the stains. He did his best to hide them or wet the rest of his coat with snow.

After a few minutes, they rushed away from the station and towards town. Arthur groaned at the sight before his eyes. It was busy and packed with people. Brick roads and light pools. Horses and carriages. It wasn’t a city. But it was a town on the verge of busting at the seams.

There was a sign on the walls of the train station. Arthur slowly tried to read it. He whacked his hand at Dutch and pointed to the sign, “New York,” He said.

“Dunkirk...” Dutch’s voice was barely above a whisper. The second some walked by he snapped out of his frozen gaze and approached the man with an unfordable about of smoothness. With a smile on his face he asked the man, “Excuse me, friend, can you tell me where I am? I miss my stop a few miles back, where is Dunkirk located in New York?”

“It’s about a four your train ride south of Buffalo, sir, ” The man was so helpful. It was like he got asked that question a lot. He kept his frown on his face though and then pushed aside to get back to his day.

Dutch wasn’t done though. He sidestepped and blocked the man again, “H-how far from Pennsylvania?”

“Three hours north by train,” The man was not happy but Dutch let him go. He got his answers.

“Arthur!” He ran over to Dutch’s side quickly. Something was very wrong. Dutch looked like he saw a ghost. He stared hard at the ground the franticly looked around, “New York!” He said sharply under his breath.

“H-how we gonna get back?” It scared him being this far north. Arthur had never been this way, he knew trouble was up here. He knew there was so much law that if anyone of these pricks knew his face they’d turn him in for the sheer joy of it.

Dutch didn’t say anything but he made a sharp turn into the train station. Arthur followed close behind him. The heat in the station was welcoming but the smell inside was spoiled by the number of people in there. It was cluttered with folk getting on and off trains. Waiting for trains. Waiting for carriages to avoid the cold. Seems everyone had the same idea. This wasn’t a problem for Dutch, he just shoved his way past people. He made it to a window after cutting in line. The teller was startled and taken aback when Dutch smiled at him.

Funny how Dutch looked like a crazy mad man and he didn’t seem to notice. Arthur was sure he was watching the man have a break down of some kind. Dutch did his best to keep his cool and ask, “Do you have a train that would be heading south west? Texas? The Arizona territory?” He tried to speak slow, but his words still mumbled together.

Arthur watched from a few feet back as the teller shook his head, “Not for another three weeks, no. Can’t go that way with the weather right now,”

Something snapped in Dutch and he almost lost his temper. Again, he spoke slowly, this time with an underlying irritation to his tone, “How in the hell did that train from Arizona get here?”

“It came in as the storm hit, sir. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but there’s more snow here than we know what to do with. No trains are allowed to leave the state until the weather has let up,”

Dutch stood there for a few seconds. He didn’t want to take this as his answer, but he had no choice. Arthur rushed to follow him outside. He could hear Dutch muttering under his breath.

“Fuck!” He said sharply. A few people looked at them. Arthur did his best to ignore their stares, “I hate New York,” Dutch said more quietly. He started walking into town.

Arthur followed close by. He couldn’t keep asking the same question. He knew he had to give Dutch time to thing. He for one was at a total loss and found himself helplessly and totally dependent on Dutch to survive. 

They went into a general store and Dutch and Arthur bought some much-needed supplies. Dutch asked the owner if there was any place in town to buy a horse or a wagon. There was a stable but they were closed for the winter season.

For now, they got some cans of food, some booze, a map that the store offered of the local county, and two leather-bound empty journals. As they walked out of the store, he handed one to Arthur. For some reason, he thought he had escaped the role of being a school kid. But to his disappointment said to him, “It’s gonna be while until we get home. You should write. I know you ain’t good yet but you can keep up the practice. It’s something to do at least,”

Arthur didn’t argue like he normally did. He took the smooth black journal with a slight nod of his head in thanks. He tucked it away in the new satchel he got. He traded it for half the price of the old one which was falling apart. This one was made of wolf fur. 

“Got a plan yet?” Arthur finally asked as they worked their way around this upbeat town.

“Yes and no,” Dutch said, “We can’t sit around waiting for the weather to get good. My face is too well known in these parts. I’m thinking we steal a horse… just one. We ride out on it and find some kind of.. farm. A ranch. There has got to be some even up north. We’ll get a wagon and ride back west to Cleveland. Get on a train there and see ourselves home,”

It sounded easy enough. But Arthur knew he had a few weeks ahead of him living on the road. As the walked further into town Arthur found himself looking at something truly spectacular. It was one of the great lakes. Erie, infect. The entire lake as far as he could see was frozen over. It looked like a icy waste land out there. Dutch pulled him from his thoughts once again.

“We need to get word back to Hosea that we’re alive,” They set off for the post office. Arthur had to go in because they could have had wanted posters of Dutch inside. Arthur was only wanted in one state and they stopped searching for him a while ago. Dutch was much more popular with the government though.

Arthur sent out a letter to a man by the name of James Henry Garrison. It was the current pen name they had set up to keep in contact with one another. Arthur chose it when he joined the gang. His vocabulary was limited and his handwriting looked like chicken scratch. Arthur shook his head while he started the letter, pushing down his irritation at himself.

_Dear brother,_

Me _and Pa made it to New York. It’s colder than hell here. Talked to the teller about another train heading west. Says no trains will be leaving N.Y until the weather lets up. The factory didn’t pay Pa. So we don’t have a lot of cash. Just enough to get us back home. Tell Ma to not worry and if she has to clean up and move around then let her. Won’t be home for a few weeks. Gotta head to Cleveland by horse. We’ll be taking the next ride west from there. Hopefully. Will write back when we make it to Cleveland._

_\- Brandon_

Arthur hoped the letter would make it to Hosea safe and sound. And hopefully soon so that he and Susan didn’t have to worry too much. The letter was short and sweet, it wasn’t like he could really write more because he didn’t exactly know how.

Back outside again, Arthur and Dutch meet their next task of stealing a horse. Dutch had been eyeing one while Arthur was in the post office. It was a large workhorse, strong enough to tread through the thick layers of snow. The huge horse was black with white spots and had a crazy mane. It looked nastier and meaner than any outlaw they’ve ever come across.

“How in the hell are we going to steal that thing?” There was a hint of attitude in Arthur’s voice. He wasn’t looking forward to being bucked off a horse two feet taller than him. Seeing as he would be riding at the hind end anyways, “Let’s say we get on it, then what? Walk out of here with all these people around?”

Dutch had a plan, he always had a plan. He shook his finger and went, “Ah, ah. Have faith in me, boy. Follow my lead,” The horse was hitched outside some kind of barn.

Arthur could smell the molten iron leaking from inside the makeshift blacksmith's barn. The horse was already agitated and didn’t seem pleased to be out in the cold. There were some low lives scattered around here an there but none of them seemed to be paying attention to anything. Dutch had started sneaking across road, walking fast and quickly to the side of the barn. He waved Arthur over and the two stood there looking around the corner. Dutch had picked up a rock from the ground and tossed it a few times in his hand before took all his strength and pelted it at the window across the street into someone’s upstairs store. The two of them quickly hid behind the barn’s walls and watched the show start.

The store owner came running outside and instantly started yelling at the low lives that had been loitering around to behind with. It created the perfect distraction. Dutch gave Arthur a quick shove and rushed to the horse waiting to be taken. Within the chaos Dutch mounted the horse and pulled Arthur up. As they left, someone noticed them stealing the horse and called out in alarm. Thank god this horse was huge and fast, they made it out of town before the law was able to show up and hopefully no one saw their faces.

The wind bit at his neck and ears, and Arthur wished he had more clothes on. The horse that he had nicked name Bucky -because any second this horse would buck him- trotted through thick snowy paths. Arthur watched the coast of Lake Erie as they made their way west. The landscape changed from open fields to thick forests. He could still see the lake splashing out between pine trees. While Arthur was looking in the forest he noticed something.

“Dutch-” He tapped his shoulder, “Look. A house. I think it’s abandon. Or no one is home.”

Dutch slowed Bucky and gazed into the trees. There was a stone house that blended in making it hard to focus on. He squinted and spurred the horse towards the house.

There wasn’t any light coming from inside and the chimney was free of any smoke. There was little to no tracks, no horse, no sounds. There was a barn though that was busted slightly open. Dutch saw in there an unused wagon. He smiled and began to chuckle with joy, “Good looking, Arthur,” He praised, “Let's see what’s happened here,”

Arthur slid off Bucky while Dutch went for the wagon, “See what you can find inside. Get anything that seems useful,” Arthur followed orders and kicked his way through the snow to get to the house.

It was just as cold inside as it was outside. The door didn’t even need to be unlocked. Arthur pushed the heavy door aside and tried his best to see inside the dark house. It looked empty, but not in a good or safe way. As he pushed inside he found himself in a kitchen that was fully stocked. It was like who ever lived here had just up and left everything behind. There were pictures everywhere. Rugs, curtains. This was a house owned by someone rather wealthy but it was funny because it was so small and cute.

Arthur pulled out his revolver just in case some animals had snuck in, or if there was a chance someone was home.

He made his way into a living room and found a massacre. It made sense now, the house wasn't abandoned. It’s owners were killed in cold blood, left to freeze and rot on their living room floor, “Dutch!” Arthur called, “We got some dead folk in here!”

There were a man and woman, probably married from all the pictures hanging about. The looked high class in nice clothes but covered in frozen blood. They didn’t die peacefully. It looked like they suffered. Dutch had walked into the house. When he saw the bodies he let out a sigh that expressed grief, “A shame,” he said, “Snows too deep for the wagon,” It didn’t take him long to get back to business, “Seeing as our hosts are no longer with us… I don’t think they’d mind if we stayed a little longer. Go check the other rooms, see if anyone else is home.”

Dutch had gotten to work and removing the dead while Arthur searched some more. He found the master bedroom with the biggest bed he ever saw and a bathtub right there in the god damn bedroom. Right across the hall was a smaller bedroom. Arthur pushed the door open and was greeted with heat. He instantly pulled out his gun and aimed it blindly in the room. There was a lantern, lit and flickering, there were cans of open food on the floor. He saw something moving behind the bed.

It was hard to make out what he was looking at, at first. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he found himself looking at a child. A girl. She made it very obvious where she was hiding and she was even staring back at Arthur. When he pointed his gun at her she screamed loudly as if she was about to die. Arthur quickly lowered his gun and move into the room, “No! No! It’s okay! I put it away!” He stuffed his gun into his holster and raised his hands up, “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The girl stayed in her place and let out a cry, “Go away!” She sounded sick. His voice was high pitched and stuffy. She coughed a few times then yelled again, “Get out!”

The commotion caused Dutch run over. He stood in the doorway and caused the girl to scream again. She picked up a stuffy animal she had and threw it at them. Dutch dogged the toy and shuffled into the room, “Miss! Calm down! We ain’t here to hurt you!”

“That’s what the other men said!” She threw another toy, this time it was a wooden horse and it hit Arthur square in the chest, “They killed my mom!” She cried out. Arthur got a good look at this girl. She was young but definitely not much younger than him, “They killed my dad! They just killed them for the fun of it! You came back to kill me too!”

Arthur took a few steps towards her, he was trying his best to not snap at her for all the toys she hit him with, “We ain’t those men,” He said slowly, “We saw what they did to your mama. We ain’t bad like them,” 

She clutched tightly to a doll that looked like a princess. She took a few steps forward as she started to calm down, realizing she was in no immediate danger. She broke into a run and threw herself into Arthur’s arms and cried, “They killed them!” She sobbed, “What am I gonna do now, mister?”

Dutch put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder and gave a squeeze. He had this sad look on his eyes and he said, “You know what to do,” And walked away to finish taking care of the parents of this poor girl. Arthur held the girl as she cried and thought about Dutch’s words.

_**Because it’s the right thing to do.** _

He had to pry her away from him. She held on like it meant life or death. It was so bizarre because he was a total and complete stranger to this girl but she had gone from hating him to loving him in just a second. He could never see himself trusting someone so easily. Then again he wasn’t a child anymore.

“What’s your name, miss?” 

She rubbed her eyes to clear away her tears, “(Y-y/n)… (L/n)…”

She sniffed hard and coughed a few times. She seemed to be really sick, “How old are you?” he kept a hand on her arm, lightly holding it but also to keep her from clinging to him again.

“12,” He voice was so sad and raspy. He felt sorry for her. She was only three years younger than him but he could already see the innocents she had was gone. He almost saw himself in her. He remembered when he was 12 years old. He cried a lot then too, “I’m scared, mister,” 

“It’s alright, (Y/n),” Arthur stood and as he did she took his hand in hers. It caught him by surprise but he didn’t make her let go, “We’ll take care of you. My name is Arthur,”

As they left her bedroom and made their way into the open end of the house, the bodies were gone but the blood remained, “He’s Dutch,” Arthur pointed at his mentor who was digging around in the cabinets. 

“Why?” She asked, “Why take care of me?”

He stopped his snooping and Dutch met up with (Y/n). He gave that heartfelt smile of his. It was soft and only half a smile but it carried so much weight behind it. For a killer and outlaw, Dutch smiled a lot, “Because… It’s the right thing to do. You’re just a kid and you won’t make it on your own. I’ve always wanted children but no woman would stay with me long enough,” He and Arthur laughed at that, “You’re a lot like my young friend here,” He gestured to Arthur, “I plucked him from the streets too. He ain’t had nobody until I came along,”

She shyly hid behind Arthur’s arm and said, “Are you guys going to send me to the orphanage?” He remembered the building all the low live hung around back in town.

Dutch shook his head quickly, “No,” He sounded so sure and his words stood as firm as he did, “Not unless you want to go.” 

(Y/n) shook her head quickly and clutched harder onto Arthur’s hand, “I don’t want to,”

“Well then, hello Miss (L/n). It’s my pleasure to formally meet you. I am Dutch Van der Linde, at your service.”


	5. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dutch had gotten down onto his knee and to your level. The amount of kindness this man has shown you in the last day had changed your world. Oddly you put your faith in this man that he would do what he said and take care of you. So you took the time to listen to each one of his words, “You might think that now, dear, but when time heals the wounds of your loss, you will regret not having a piece of them with you,”
> 
> The way his voice twisted and hitched made you think he was speaking from his own experiences. Surely he had lost people too. You looked behind you and saw Arthur standing there. The pain on his face surprised you so much. You hadn’t realized that this probably hurt them too. You couldn’t imagine the loss they felt, “Do you have a family?” You finally asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next chapter!! Please let me know what you think!! Have fun reading!!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr!! ((missblisswrites.tumblr.com))

You were sitting at a table you had spent your whole life at. Memories flooded your mind of that morning you last saw them, right here at this same table. The way they pleaded for you to hide. The sounds of their screams. You could still see the faces of the men who did this every time you closed your eyes. Strange how things could change so quickly.

Perhaps being found by these men wasn’t all that bad. The one that called himself Dutch was a pretty good cook. But his breakfast couldn’t compare to the pancakes your mother could make. You sat at your dining table with Dutch and Arthur. They had been so kind as to welcome themselves into your home and eat your food. Like you could say no to them.

Since last night, you had been pretty silent. You fell asleep on the couch in the living room while leaning on Arthur’s arm. You spoke only when spoken too, and kept most of your inner thoughts to yourself. On one hand, you were thankful that someone had found you. But on the other hand, you hoped no one did. You felt the need to wither away and join your family beyond the grave. You knew if no one came to get you… you’d die there too.

While you poked at your food, Arthur and Dutch talked about their next move. You barely listened to them.

Between sips of coffee, Dutch said, “We should leave tonight,”

“Night? Why night?” Arthur had such a deep accent to his words. You could tell he was from far away lands.

“Son, tell me what you're going to do when we cross paths with the law? I’m going to tell you right now I’m not going to go down without a fight,” Dutch was a wanted criminal. You knew that. You use to read the newspaper to your father and the name rang a few bells.

You missed him. Your father was a good man, a fisherman who came from Canada and around Newfoundland. He spoke a lot of French and didn’t really understand English.

He was a fisherman, a sailor at heart. It’s why you moved here onto the lake. That and your mother wanted to get as far away from her family as possible.

It didn’t really seem to bother you though that you were sitting at a table with someone who was wanted all over the state. A few years ago, not that you really remembered, there was a bank robbery in Buffalo. It was pretty bad. Dutch was there with a gang of men. He wasn’t the leader of that gang but he did cause a lot of damage. He was mostly wanted for the bank robbery, but he was wanted for other smaller things too. Horse theft, larceny, and the biggest one of all… Tax evasion. The crime he was most wanted for wasn’t even a crime that hurt other people, it was something silly you honestly thought. So what if he didn’t pay his taxes. He did far worse than that.

When you rolled out of your thoughts again, this time Dutch and Arthur were talking about something else. Arthur had started cleaning up from there meal, at least these home invaders had some manners.

“How long from Cleveland to Arizona?” Arthur asked. Was that were you were headed? The desert?

“We’ll take a train to Nebraska. Get on another one there to the open west. If we leave tomorrow night, I’d say we could be to Cleveland in a week. Hopefully back home in two weeks from now,”

You started to ignore them again. As they kept talking on about things you didn’t understand, you were trapped once again in your prison of a mind. You didn’t want to leave the only home you knew. It was going to be hard to say goodbye.

While the day dragged on and you just kept sitting at that table, Arthur and Dutch got to work. They cleaned most of the food and drink out of the house and packed it onto the wagon. They were kind enough to ask you what they could take. They ask for blankets and clothes mostly. At one point Dutch came to you with a box in his hands.

“Miss,” He spoke slowly, as if afraid to say something to set you off. How could he be afraid of the tears of a 12 year old girl? “I’ve found some things in here that could be worth some money,” Ah… That’s what he wanted, “And then also some money,”

You frowned but didn’t look at him, “Take it,” You were still sick so your voice broke a bit, “They don’t need it anymore.” You didn’t need it either. If you had these two men watching over you, why would you need money? Never once in your life did you need money because you got to enjoy the luxury of being a child with loving parents. Not anymore.

It finally came to the time when you had to leave the dining table and pack up your own things. Arthur offered to help you. He was nice, just as nice as Dutch. They were both very kind to you and you where thankful. You packed away your clothes into suit cases. You had just gotten them for your twelfth birthday, as your parents were planning a trip this summer to New York City, were the rest of your extended family lived.

A shame… they probably thought you were dead along with your parents. Or they would soon. Instead of packing that suit case with a smile, you found yourself crying silently. You didn’t want Arthur to hear you.

“(Y/n), is there anything in here you want?” Arthur was standing in front of your desk.  
You swiped away lost tears and sniffled, “Uh… yeah,” You walked over to the desk and stared at it for a second. You had necklaces and jewelry and pretty perfumes. Your mother spoiled you rotten, “You can sell these,” You scooped all of them up, not wanting to look at them ever again. You wanted to remove any memories you had of your parents.

“And this?” Arthur held up a book. It was the only book you loved reading over and over and over again. It was called Silence but it was a small book about a princess who got lost in a foreign country, went missing, and was found by a group of hooligan boys. She went on adventures with them and fell in love with a stranger she kept running into. It was a fairytale and you use to dream of being like the princess in your book. You wanted to go on adventures, fall in love, see the world. Those dreams died when your parents did.

You grabbed the book, have tempted to throw it away, “I’ll take it,” You couldn’t let it go so you put it into your suit case, “Do you read? Mr. Morgan?” You found voice for the first time that day.

Arthur seemed uncomfortable, he cleared his throat then said, “A little. A-and.. Cool it with the Mr. Morgan crap, kid. I’m only three years older than you,”

“Sorry,” You thought it was strange. Anyone that was 15 around here demanded to be treated like an adult but here was a 15-year-old boy who looked like he was 20. Arthur was skinny and tall, he looked awkward from every angle. But he had a small amount of scruff growing on his face, and his hair was short and well kept.  
Silence returned for a few seconds. Arthur clicked his tongue and asked, “Do you want to bring any more books?” You had a whole chest full of them that Arthur had found.

“No,” You wanted to leave as much of this life behind as possible. After you got everything from your room, you helped Dutch and Arthur empty the rest of the house.

At one point you were torn between two worlds. You stood in your living room looking up at the mantel of the fireplace. There were several pictures of you and your family.

Your mother did waste a lot of time taking those pictures. It’d be rude to leave them behind. You heard him approach slowly, then Dutch put his hand on your shoulder.

“You should take them,” He said. His voice comforted your worrying mind.

“I don’t want to remember them,” You barely whispered those words. It took all the energy out of you to finally say that.

Dutch had gotten down onto his knee and to your level. The amount of kindness this man has shown you in the last day had changed your world. Oddly you put your faith in this man that he would do what he said and take care of you. So you took the time to listen to each one of his words, “You might think that now, dear, but when time heals the wounds of your loss, you will regret not having a piece of them with you,”

The way his voice twisted and hitched made you think he was speaking from his own experiences. Surely he had lost people too. You looked behind you and saw Arthur standing there. The pain on his face surprised you so much. You hadn’t realized that this probably hurt them too. You couldn’t imagine the loss they felt, “Do you have a family?” You finally asked.

You stared at Dutch, looking into his eyes to see what emotions he tried to hide. He didn’t hide a single one. He went through a series of bitter laughs and chuckles before shaking his head, “My parents are dead. Left me a long time ago,” He kept a lot of the details to himself, “I didn’t really think I ever needed them. Sometimes I wish they needed me just as much as I really needed them. My parents failed me,”

When you looked behind you, you met Arthur’s gaze, “What about you? Do you have a family?”

And just like Dutch, a storm of emotions washed across his face. And he bitterly laughed. There was something odd about these men, something not right but you found yourself trusting them with their stories, “Nope,” His words were blunt and loud, “Lost my mama when I was really young. Pa left me for dead,”

You felt lucky amongst these outlaws. You had loving parents, a home, food, safety. Money of all things. You never had to feel the loss of a parent abounding you. You never lived with parents who didn’t want you. It made you feel small and humbled your heart in a cold way. With that thought in mind you walked to the fire place. You grabbed every picture you could. The one of your parent’s wedding. The one of you and them smiling happily with the lake behind you. The portraits of both of your parents. The photo of your home. The large family photo of your infant self with your parents, uncles, grandparents, and cousins. You had a big family. You thought about it, maybe Dutch could take you to them? All the way in New York City?

You remember then what your mother told you about that part of your family. They were rich, very rich. They’d try to change you. You knew your mother and your grandmother didn’t get along and it was the biggest reason why you lived so far away now. Perhaps your mother would rather have you run away with some outlaws than go home. Maybe that’s why they showed up. You thought in your little child heart that your mother had sent Dutch and Arthur to save you.

Night arrived much faster than you expected. It was finally time to leave. You didn’t want to look back. You didn’t pack any of the dresses you had, you left them all behind.

Every skirt, every dress, every girly thing you owned. You put on a pair of pants, a button down shirt and a coat so big that you couldn’t fit in it. Your boots were heavy as your heart as you closed the door to your empty and hollow home.

The wagon was full of boxes and food and supplies. Dutch was already up front with the reins in his hands. Arthur picked you up and handed you up to Dutch who in turn placed you beside him. You were snug tight between the two men. At least it was warm.

No one really spoke for the majority of the ride. It was dark out, and you could barely see the road ahead. You took this time to stare up at the clear night sky. The moon was out but barely. A small sliver hung around with the little specks of stars above. You thought more about your mother as your eyes grew heavy. This was a long ride ahead of you. Sleep crept in and you leaned against Arthur for support. He didn’t seem to mind so you got as cozy as you could.

_____________________________________________

“Ticket, please,” 

Your fingers fumbled around in your coat pockets, scrambling to give the big man his ticket. You were shy and kept your gaze locked firmly on the ground as you held out the little stub.

The man took it and punched a few holes in the paper before handing it back, “Next, please,” At least he used his manners.

You took your time walking up the big metal steps that lead you into the passenger car. Dutch and Arthur were behind you and dressed very out of character. You suppose you would be too if you were a wanted man. You had come up with fake names for them. Since you got to Cleveland you’ve been calling Dutch, “Uncle Francis,” and Arthur was, “Cousin Timmy” and they were taking you back home in Arizona to your family.

The trip was more than half way over by now. This was the last train ride, two hours, until you got to a little ghost town called Dodge. You had to admit, being this far away from home was really exciting! You’d never been outside your own hometown for very long. Now you were watching cactuses rush by your window. You never even seen a cactus until the other day.

Just a little bit ago, while you were waiting for your train, you had Arthur run out into the open sandy fields behind the train station with you. You ran around laughing for the first time since this trip started. Arthur stood there with his arms crossed and the faintest smile as you picked up handfuls of dirt and threw them in the wind. You loved watching the dusty clouds float away. You’ve never seen so much sand and dirt! The open west was definitely far different from your little lake side home.

Now you sat beside him, Dutch in the seat in front of you. The passenger car was packed and it was hot. You were dying in there. The weather was probably the biggest shock to you. It was March and it was blazing hot out, it just didn’t make sense!

Like every train ride, boredom crept into your mind and held your thoughts hostage. Dutch was busy reading a book. He loved reading more than anyone else on this planet.

Probably more than stealing, and you saw your fair share of his robberies up close for the last week and a half. You also knew better than to bother Dutch when he was reading. That was his quiet time and he made it obvious he’d like to keep it that way. And so… like every train ride, you turned to Arthur and tugged on his sleeve. He was having a hard time writing in a journal he had.

His eyes were narrow and glared at the pages as his hand shook out some words. He almost looked thankful that you were bothering him, “Want to play a game?” You asked.

“Sure,” He quickly slapped the journal shut with a sigh, “What do you want to play?”

Coming up with games on these rides was hard to do. The last two train rides you played silly versions of eye-spy but that game was totally boring now. There was no way you could even bring yourself to spy anything with your eyes anymore. You’d honestly rather be blind.

You wrinkled your nose and tightened your lips, making a face of deep concentration.

“You look like your about to shit yourself,” Arthur quipped.

You ignored him, thinking harder. You brought your hands up to your temples and shut your eyes.

What game?

What kind of game?

What to play?

You had two hours to kill! Why was this so hard? Jesus! Being a child sucked! There was nothing to do!

It finally came to you. The perfect, silliest, funniest game you’re brain could ever manage to fart out. Your eyes snapped opened and you looked at Arthur with a big grin, “I got it,” He raised a brow at you in a question. You pointed right across the train to the two people sitting in the seats in the next row.

Then you gave a little wave of your hand for Arthur to come closer. He hesitated and wasn’t sure what you wanted so you grabbed him by his collar and yanked him over.

You got close and whispered between little giggles, “That couple? They killed their son and sold his body for money. That’s how she can afford this train ticket, that’s why she’s got so many rings on,” Arthur was beyond confused by your little game so you pointed to another person. It was an old man sitting in the two rows up. You cleared your throat and said, “He’s a vampire!” The bald man hardly noticed the story you were crafting up about him, “He’s over a hundred years old, he turned himself into a vampire to escape war and fear of death,”

Ohhh, okay. He got it. It was a little childish for his tastes but Arthur played along for your sake. He pointed at a little girl sitting with her mother, “You ever seen a human child before?” The question made you giggle behind your hands, “Well, over there? She ain’t no kid. She’s a monster, a demon in human form. Make her mad enough and she’ll send you to hell herself.”

“Her mother? Nah, that’s her human servant,” You added onto his story.

Arthur chuckled and nodded his head, “Oh yeah. I’d hate to be her. Sitting there all the time, feeding that little devil, running around to her every beck and call,” The two of you snickered in your hands, enjoying the dramatic stories you made for your fellow passengers. It was so fun, you both laughed and giggled and you found yourself more than happy to be so far away from home.


	6. Welcome Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He leaned down and picked up the dead rabbit and let out a high pitched whistle, “That’s the goal, ain’t it?” It was, but it felt wrong. Was this what it would feel like to kill? To take a life? What would it feel like to take a human life? Arthur’s spotted horse had trotted up to him and he tied the rabbit down to his saddle, “Come on,” He ushered you along.
> 
> But you stood there, looking at the pool of blood left behind, the way the light reflected off it and the dirt soaked it up, “Have you ever killed someone, Arthur?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Here is the next chapter!! I hope you all enjoy!! Please let me know what you guys think!! The next chapter is gonna have some intense themes!!! Shits gonna happen!!!

“Arthur!” 

“Yep?”

“Get those bags in that wagon for me, will ya?”

You looked up at Dutch as he pointed and barked order for Arthur to follow. Man, you’d hating being him. You had just got off the train, and made it to Dodge. According to the letter that Hosea sent back, he’d be about a mile out of town at a place called Fortunes Hollow. Which so happened to be a small shallow cave beside a lake. You were excited to finally call a new place home, and to meet this Hosea and Susan that Dutch talked so much about.

While Arthur was busy with the hard labor, Dutch looked down to you and smiled slightly, “We’ve got a few minutes to spare, why don’t we check out some stores, my little lady?”

You giggled and nodded your head, “Okay!” You rolled up the sleeves on your shirt and wiggled your hands at your belt, it was still a little odd to be in boy clothes all the time. But you far more enjoyed it than being in a dress, especially in the hot dusty town in the middle of a desert. 

Dutch offered you his hand and you kindly took it, following him off the station steps and into the quiet cattle ranch town. The place smelled old and musty, and the waves of dust that the wind blew up didn’t help. 

The town wasn’t much to look at, it had two main roads, then a bunch of cattle barns scattered around. While walking down the main drag, you saw a little shop window that read ‘Book Store.’ You tugged quickly on Dutch’s hand with joy bubbling up, “Look!” There was something you learned about Dutch over these last few weeks, you both shared a deep love of reading, “We can buy some books if we want!”

He seemed just as impressed. Not to often did you see a store that just sold books. He rubbed his chin then pulled at the corner of his mustache, “Want to take a look inside?” There had to be something good in there.

“Yes! Please!” 

Dutch laughed at your giddiness and took you inside. The doorbell jingled and you’re eyes adjusted to the darkness within. It smelled so much nicer in there. The old smell of books greeted your nose and you took in a deep breath. Wow… 

The shop wasn’t too big and it was cute enough to convince you that you just had to stay here a moment longer. While you went on over to the walls filled with books, eyeing them to see if any of them caught your interests, Dutch walked himself to the front counter. You listened to him speak to the woman standing there.

She was tall, about as tall as Dutch, and very busty. You glanced at the woman and she flashed you a simple smile. She was very pretty. Her deep dark red hair curled wildly like a fire in every direction. She didn’t even try to tame it. Her skin was pale and covered in a hundred million freckles. The woman most certainly caught Dutch’s interest.

You learned quickly that Dutch was a woman’s kind of man. Smooth, tall, handsome, and well worded. He loved women, and loved talking to them. You’ve already experienced many of his lovers over the course of this trip. His tactic was very simple. He approached them with a smile, he’d say something nice, he’d ask them some question then so sweetly ask for their name.

Just as expected, Dutch leaned on the front counter, casually resting on his arm, “Hello,” He smiled.

“Hello sir,” The woman smiled back. She was definitely interested. Gross. You looked away and walk further into the little shabby store, fingering through books that caught your interest. The woman spoke again, “How can I help you?”

Dutch let out a little low chuckle, “I was hoping I could help you?” Hook. Line. And?

She giggled behind her hand, “Oh my,” Sinker. She flashed her pretty little blue eyes at him, “What would I need help with?”

God, you wanted to barf. You just couldn’t understand what it was like to flirt with someone, or why adults did it so much.

“You tell me, miss,” Dutch leaned closer, “I can do anything you like.” Gross!! 

This woman was smart, a lot smarter than Dutch’s usual choice of women. She chuckled quick then became rather serious, “You can buy something. I’d love to have your money in my hands.” You could tell she took Dutch by surprise.

He laughed, low and thunderous, he laughed for what felt like hours. He wiped away a tear and shook his head, “You’ve got a one-track mind, miss,” He then turned around, looking for you within the store, “(Y/N),” he called, “Pick out something nice,”

You already had a book in your hands that you wanted. It was another fairy tale, this one about a warrior queen who ruled over an island of women. It was called _Jungle Hunt._ You skipped over, happy to be able to leave with something. You were too short to even reach the top of the counter… You were already pretty short for a 12-year-old anyway. You slapped the little green book up on the counter, standing on your tippy toes watching the woman put your book in a bag and take the money from Dutch’s hand.

“Your daughter has a good taste in books,” She said. You wanted to correct her, tell her you were just an orphan girl, but Dutch laughed.

“Thank you, she gets it from me,” Goddammit, “What’s your name, miss?”

She slid the bag back towards you, and stubbornly and begrudgingly you took it. As you huffed and puffed, disliking being a pawn in the battle of the sexes, you heard the woman laugh and say, “My name is Annabelle, it’s so nice to meet you.”

_____________________________________________________________________

  
When you first got to Fortune’s Hollow, it truly was hollow. There was a series of rock pillars and indents in the cliff side. You found a little shallow cave back there, with a wide and flashy pond beside it. When Dutch pulled the wagon up, he called out for the two people you’ve heard so much about over the past few weeks.

Arthur was right. You immediately guessed who was who. Just as Arthur said, Hosea was a snooty rat looking man with hair so blonde, it almost looked white. He dressed as though he was some kind of state’s men. Classy, while still country. The other one must have been Susan. Again, Arthur was absolutely right, she looked like a raven that would sit perched on your window, staring at you with judgment. She was pretty though, plump and tall with her hair as black as night, twisted up and behind her head.   
While everyone was happy to see each other, sharing stories, you found yourself feeling alone and uncomfortable. You started to greatly miss your family. Sure, Hosea and

Susan was nice, they greeted you with smiles and shook your hand. They had a tent already pitched and waiting for you, they were so kind to a little stranger like you. The even invited you to sit down with them and eat. Sitting there by the fire on some logs made you feel small and alone. You couldn’t join there laughter or glee. You sat there quietly, trying your best to be invisible. 

As the days went by, you opened up to them more. Arthur was the only one you could see your self confiding in. He woke you up every morning, throwing some sort of clothes at you while you laid on the little cot bed you had. Your tent wasn’t much, but it gave you some sense of privacy. He’d say something like, “Rise and shine, ass face, time to work,” or, “Get the hell up, monkey breath. We got chores to do.”

And chores you did. You’ve never had to do chores before, besides the regular days your mother would ask you to clean your room. But to your surprise, no one chastised you or was frustrated at your lack of knowledge on how to do some of the most basic things. 

Your days started off with Susan. She’d teach you how to cook food. Mostly stews, and how to grill things over an open flame. She was a bit bossy but mostly harmless.

“How do you know to flip it over?” You were watching her cook some chunks of rabbit meat. She took a knife out, stabbed the juicy little steak and then flipped it over on the grill.

She hummed, “You don’t. Not really,” She flipped two other bits of meat, “It depends on what kind of meat it is, depends on how hot the fire burns,” Was cooking really that simple? “Mostly you just want to cook the blood away. Make the meat crispy on the outside, tender and pink on the inside,”  
“How do you know what it looks like on the inside?” You asked, thankful she didn’t get irritated by all the questions.

Susan glanced at you and flashed a little, kind smile, “You cut it open,” She took her knife and sliced the meat in half. Just like she said, it was slightly pink inside, just enough to see it's contrasted against the grey and brown of the cooked meat. You started to cook on your own after that, and cooking for others. You were actually very good for a kid.

Another one of your chores was doing laundry. You didn’t mind, Susan helped you with that too. Normally by the time it was noon, Hosea and Dutch would return from whatever escapades they were on. They’d always bring back some kind of money or valuables and chuck them away into a chest in Dutch’s tent. This was also around when you did the next chore of your day.

Hosea would take you and Arthur to go hunting. Not that you could really do that much, but Hosea was by far the most eager of all of them to teach you. He was a natural born teacher, he was kind and understanding, and encouraged you to face your fears. That first fear was holding a gun. 

He put his hands on your shoulders, and squared them out, “Remember to breathe, okay?” You nodded your head as you lifted the gun, “And keep both your eyes open,” It was scary, to say the least. You held the weapon in your hand that took your parent's life. But Dutch had a point, he said you were old enough to learn how to defend yourself.

He reminded you that though this gang was your home, they wouldn’t always be there to save you. Sometimes you just had to save yourself.

Arthur was standing a few yards away, leaning on a large dusty tan rock with his arms crossed. You looked to him for encouragement, and he gave you that half little smile he always did and nodded his head. 

“Okay,” You whispered to yourself, “You can do this,” The scary part was firing the god damn gun. Hosea stood behind you, hands firm on your shoulders as you pulled the trigger and felt the gun jump back at you. There were some bottles down the ways on a rock, you didn’t hit a single one. The second the smoke cleared you looked back at Hosea, “I didn’t hit anything,” You sounded ready to give up.

“That’s fine,” He smiled at you and ruffled up your hair with his hand, “Try again. You’ve got this, (Y/N). Don’t worry about being good, just learn your aim and you can improve from there.”

You shot the gun three more times before you finally blew a bottle to smithereens, “I did it! Oh my god! I hit it!! Hosea! I hit it!!” You started smiling wide and beaming up at the older man. 

Just as elated as you, Hosea returned your smile with a cheeky grin all his own, “There you go, girl! I told you that you’d get it,” He ruffled your hair again, something that became a habit of his, and you both stared at Arthur, expecting him to chime in. 

The young cowboy smirked and you felt yourself swell with pride, “One day maybe you’ll be as good as Dutch,”

“Maybe- I wish!” 

Eventually, you started actually hunting with Hosea and Arthur. Took about several weeks, but you finally made your first kill. It was a rabbit you spotted and shot dead on sight. You definitely were getting better with your aim, just like Hosea said you would. You stood over top the dead rabbit, feeling sick to your stomach. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear Arthur approach.

“What’s wrong?”

You felt like crying. You killed that animal. It didn’t feel good. Even if you needed it for food, “I killed it…” Your voice was low and laced with a depression Arthur recognized.

He leaned down and picked up the dead rabbit and let out a high pitched whistle, “That’s the goal, ain’t it?” It was, but it felt wrong. Was this what it would feel like to kill? To take a life? What would it feel like to take a human life? Arthur’s spotted horse had trotted up to him and he tied the rabbit down to his saddle, “Come on,” He ushered you along.

But you stood there, looking at the pool of blood left behind, the way the light reflected off it and the dirt soaked it up, “Have you ever killed someone, Arthur?”

The question took him by surprise. He stopped halfway between getting on his saddle, put his foot back down to the ground and walked over to you. He put his large hand on your head and eased you to look up at him, “Sure” he didn’t hide the truth from you, “We have,” he spoke for the rest of the gang.

Your nose crinkled, your eyes were heavy, “Does it hurt? Killing someone?” You enjoyed the warmth of his hand on your head. You were a little sad when he took it away and stepped back.

“It did. At first,” He sounded like he was about to tell a story, but he went back to his horse. He saddled up then held out a hand for you. You didn’t know how to ride a horse yet, nor did you have one. When you sat tight and snug behind him, Arthur cleared his throat and kept talking, “In this world, (Y/N), you gotta be strong. You gotta be quick.

We live in times where it’s either you… or the guy trying to kill you. I’d rather it be him than you.”

“But he’s a person too.”

“He is,” Arthur spurred his horse to a quick trot, “He’s got a family, he’s got friends. He’s got feelings,” Arthur paused just long enough for you to but in.

“I don’t want to kill someone though… My mother always told me to be kind. She wanted to save people, heal them, make them better-”  
It was now Arthur’s turn to cut you off, but he did so in a way that wasn’t rude or belittling, “You have to close your heart to them, and to anyone that ain’t friendly. Sure… You can do all those things, but do it to your own, your people, your kind.”

“My kind?” You were confused and a little tired. Killing sure takes a lot of energy out of you. You snug close to Arthur, leaning on his back and resting your cheek between his shoulders. He didn’t seem at all to mind you, it was a regular thing for you to be clinging on the older teen, he’d gotten use to it at this point.

“Yeah, us. Dutch- Hosea and Susan. Maybe that-” Arthur paused to clear his throat and his voice had an irritated tone to it, “Maybe that Annabelle soon too- Anyways. I’m talking about the gang. We look out for our own, and others like us.”

“You mean like….? Other outlaws?”

Arthur internally flinched at the word. He hated being called an outlaw. He didn’t feel like one. But you were right to some extent, “Yeah, simple folk, mostly. I trust an outlaw more than I trust a rich man.”

You were getting very tired there, cuddling up to Arthur’s warm back. The sun was setting, and it got so damn cold in the desert at night, “My mother was a rich man’s daughter. My grandpa was a doctor and my mother wanted to be one too. He ran a hospital in New York City. My whole family was rich. My mother told me how much she hated that part of her family. But she still took their money. So… I was a rich person once. You trust me, don’t you?”

The low chuckle vibrated from his chest and to his back, you could feel him speak, “Yes. I do. But you ain’t rich no more.” No. No you were not.

“Would you still trust me if I was?”

Another little chuckle. What was so funny? Who honestly knew. Arthur steered his stallion across the land, he spotted Hosea up the ways, “Always.” His words made you smile, they made you feel a lot better too. Arthur had that way to him, and you were thankful he was so kind to you, and that he actually cared about you, just like the rest of them.


	7. Killer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He cut you off. Why was he so angry? “You even a girl under there? Or you just some sissy boy?” He took a step towards you and you quickly backed away. He was quick though and snatched you up by your arm. You dropped the art book you were holding and it fluttered to the ground with a solid slam on the hardwood floors.
> 
> “L-let go of me!” You tried yanking away from him. He smelled so bad, like someone shit on him and dumped a bottle of rum on it and lit it on fire. Where was Dutch? Where was Annabelle? Why did he care what you looked like? You tried so hard to get away from him but you were stuck in the corner of the room now. You didn’t know how you got there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEEZES ENJOY THE CHAPTER MORE WILL BE COMING SOON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> Q7Q I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT

The sun was so hot. You had fair skin and it was not use to this much daylight. The sunburn that had worked it’s way onto your arms stung and itched at the same time. You and Arthur were sitting alone in camp, while the adults went off on a big heist. Dutch said they might come back with stacks of cash. The goal was to get enough money to head further northwest and into the Nevada territory.

You were slowly reading Jungle Hunt while Arthur scribbled away in his journal. On days like these, he was the baby sitter for little old you. He didn’t seem to mind though, he enjoyed your company. It was refreshing to talk to someone who wasn’t twice his age, though, you did little talking right now. It was so god damn hot, dry and terrible, that the two of you sweated in silence under the shade of the shallow cave you called home.

It was hard to believe, but about two months had already gone by since you joined the gang. Life was simple, but very hard at the same time. You worked a lot, doing chores, practicing your hunting and shooting skills, and every once in a while you got spoiled by Dutch who made it a habit to take you to town on Saturdays. That was today, and even though he was away on some big mission, he promised to take you into Dodge as soon as he got back. You knew he mostly went there to visit Annabelle, but he was kind enough to bring you and buy you things.

You had gotten to a pretty boring part in your book, and the heat was making it hard to think. Your little eyes wandered away from the pages and towards Arthur. He seemed like he was… angry? No… he looked more frustrated than anything. He sat across from you at the table. You thought he was just doodling, but it looked like he was trying to write.

“You spelled it wrong,” You sat up and pointed at his chicken scratch letters, “It’s spelled D-o-d-g-e. You forgot the D,”

Arthur groaned out and threw his pencil down onto the table, “God dammit!” He huffed and puffed and crossed his arms, “This shit’s hard. You don’t hear no second ‘D’ in Dodge! Where the hell did it even come from?” It was a little funny watching him get so upset over some words. He didn’t much like your giggles either, “Fuck off,” Arthur crossed his arms tighter and kicked back his seat so his chair leaned back.

You giggled a little more, waving a hand, “I’m sorry- I’m sorry. You just get so mad! It’s silly.”

This made him even more irritated, “Well you can fucking read!” Why was he so mad-… Oh.

You stopped your little laughter and stared at Arthur, “You can’t read?”

“Barely,”

Really now? How long had you know him? You had no idea he struggled with reading. He always had that damn journal. He lived for it, breathed for it, he bleed ink to soak on those pages. He also had that old torn up book too that he wouldn’t let anyone touch. And he couldn’t read? No way. You felt a little bad, in a way, because you remembered your father and how much he struggled with learning to read English. He hated every second of it, and you did your best to teach him, but after a while he just gave up. He could read fine, but only in French. He hated how English had so many words that could mean just one thing, he hated how silent letters could sneak up on you, he hated the way the letters didn’t sound or look the same as his mother tongue. You missed him. You missed him a lot.

You did your best to shove those thoughts away and turn your focus back on Arthur, “Do you want some help?” You asked.

Arthur didn’t seem in the mood, but he glanced back at you, “Help with reading?”

“Yeah. I use to teach my dad how to read until he got sick of it,”

Before Arthur could answer, the two of you could hear the low distant hum of horses running across the desert plain. The adults had finally returned. The two of you forgot your conversation and fled for the opening to your hideout. As you raced, you shoved Arthur out of the way, and in return he shoved you back as you both fought to get there first.

The second you made it past him you bolted, leaving Arthur in the dust. Dutch and Hosea seemed as cheerful as always, and Susan’s mild mannered mood told you that the heist was a success.

“What did you get!? What did you get!?” You were nearly jumping in place as you watched them all dismount and hitch their horses. Arthur joined a second later, frazzled and with new dust stains on his face and arms. Did he fall on the way here?

“Money!” Dutch grinned like a mad man, “Three grand!”

“And!” Hosea chimed in, “Some very handsome bonds. Thank you, Mr. Denis and your fine gold mines!”

Holy shit! Three grand and some bonds? All that hidden in some stagecoach? People out west sure were dumb, you thought. No one in their right mind back home would just leave stuff like that out for grabs. It’d be in a safe, within a safe, within another god damn safe and guarded by men with guns bigger than your arms.

“How much more do we need?” Arthur asked.

“A bit more,” Dutch handed the money off to Susan, while Hosea gave her the bonds. She was surely going to stash it away in the chest, “Maybe two more jobs like this and we’ll be good to go. Nevada’s got our name on it, and they’ve got land out there and people who need saving.” He always said that. What people needed saving? Who was Dutch going to save? Guess that was apart of the journey. You stood there, smiling wide at Dutch with an eager look on your face. Just like all the adults plus Arthur, he patted your head and walked past you, “Don’t you worry, my little lady, we’ll go to town soon. Give an old man some rest, though, would ya?”

And so you did. You patiently waited while Dutch talked over plans with Hosea, and pestered Arthur with philosophy lessons on nature or something like that. You didn’t really pay attention. You just wanted to get to town, buy a new book to add to your growing collection. And maybe possibly also ask Dutch to get you a candy bar. How on earth could he say now if you asked so nice and sweetly?

After what felt like years, Dutch finally saddled up and brought you to town. It was getting late and the sun was on it’s way down towards the horizon. You had just a few hours of day light left. The ride to town was always pleasant, it was just a good twenty minutes there. Ten minutes today because Dutch felt wild, and you laughed out as he spurred his trusty steed to race across the desert sands.

Like always, the two of you zipped right into Annabelle’s store. She was always happy to see you two, more so Dutch than anything however. She greeted you both with a smile.

“Well hello! Here for another book (Y/N?)” Annabelle’s kindness always surprised you. It surprised you because she was so smart and wise, yet she wasted her time with Dutch of all people. They did seem to make each other happy though.

“Mhm!! I’ve read Jungle Hunt two times now! It’s time for something new,” You stopped just short of the counter that was too damn tall, standing a few feet away so she could see you. Dutch made himself at home and easily went behind the counter and greeted her with a peck on the cheek.

  
Annabelle smiled like a freak, elated to have her dark and mysterious stranger back within her reach. Though she was sure to tell you, “I just got a new shipment of books. They’re up stairs. I was waiting for you guys to get here to put them out.”

Dutch was so kind to ask her, “Would you like me to get them, my dear?”

“There are two crates, we can each get one?”

“Lead the way,” Dutch gave her a gentleman’s bow and a flirty look that still made you want to barf, “We’ll be back down in a second, little lady. Don’t you steal nothing,”

Dutch pointed a finger at you and grinned while you both shared a laugh.

While you waited for them to return with the new books, you took your time looking at the ones already out. You worked your way into the back of the store, into corners you haven’t searched yet. It was dark back there, muggy, and the sent of old leather and yellowed pages wafted all around you. You found something neat, a book about art and history filled with more pictures than words. Maybe Arthur would like it? You knew he didn’t read much, but it didn’t hurt to start somewhere. You leafed through the pages, interested in the stories this book had to tell. It had pictures of famous paintings in it and statues from ancient times long ago. Arthur would love this, you just had to get it!

Maybe you could sit down with him, and read it together? The thought made you smile.

In the distance, you could hear the doorbell to the store jingle alive. Another customer? You paid them no mind, choosing to lurk around in the back.

This didn’t mean they didn’t see you. The store was like a hall way, and didn’t have any other rooms. You heard footsteps approach you, and a man say, “Excuse me, son-” When you turned and looked at him, clearly not a boy, but a girl just in boy’s clothing, he stopped and knitted his brows, “…Miss…”

This man didn’t look friendly. Or sober for that fact. You could smell the booze on him. He was old, with wild gray hair that was so messy that it probably never had been brushed before in his life. His face had patches of fuzz on it, with some stains that must have been from his day drinking. Whatever that man was thinking, must have been some fucked up thoughts. He seemed rightly angry at you for some reason.

“Anyone ever tell you how to dress, little girl?” His voice set off alarms in your head. What was he talking about? How many times have you walked through this town in pants, jeans, button downs and work shirts? No one ever said a thing before? “Didn’t your mama tell you how to act? What’s wrong with you?”

“I-..I’m sorr-”

He cut you off. Why was he so angry? “You even a girl under there? Or you just some sissy boy?” He took a step towards you and you quickly backed away. He was quick though and snatched you up by your arm. You dropped the art book you were holding and it fluttered to the ground with a solid slam on the hardwood floors.

“L-let go of me!” You tried yanking away from him. He smelled so bad, like someone shit on him and dumped a bottle of rum on it and lit it on fire. Where was Dutch? Where was Annabelle? Why did he care what you looked like? You tried so hard to get away from him but you were stuck in the corner of the room now. You didn’t know how you got there.

The stranger grabbed your other arm, pinning them above your head, “What’s the matter, girl?” He got so close you could count the teeth he had missing, “You gonna dress like a boy, I’ll treat ya like a boy!”

“Let go!” You felt some swell of energy, fear, and anger manifest within you. It gave you the strength to buck your leg up and kick him in his knee as hard as you could.

Maybe you shouldn’t have done that. He let go of one of your arms, but used his free hand to slap you so hard in the face that you saw stars. What you did only made him more angry. In the few seconds you were dazed by the sheer blow of his hand against your face, he grabbed your leg and pulled it out from under you, causing you to fall backward and slam into the ground. How could all this noise not have made it’s way to Dutch and Annabelle? You pleaded, and were about to scream when the man slapped his hand down on your mouth while pinning you to the ground. He was so much bigger than you, and stronger too.

“You nasty little runt!” With the hand on your mouth, he used the other one to grab at your shirt. You kicked him again, nocking the gun free from his belt and it wobbled away onto the floor a few feet away from you, “You’re a little freak, aren’t you? A bastard? I’ll show you what happens to little freaks and bastards!” How could this have happened? How did it happen so fast? You started to cry, tears welled in your eyes and stung when they reached your cheek that was already inflamed. His hand smelled like rotten food, and he clamped your mouth shut so hard that his nails were digging into your skin.

It hurt as he pinned you there. The man started to grab at your clothes, he was so damn intent on seeing what you had to hide, which was your pride and dignity. Your heart was racing a mile a minute and you wished, hoped and prayed Dutch would hear what was happening and come to your rescue. The drunk tugged so hard at your shirt that the buttons started popping lose one by one. When he pulled your shirt free, he grabbed and yanked at your belt. You noticed his gun just out of your reach and something rang in your head though, words that Arthur told you not to long ago.

It’s either you. Or him.

You tried one last time, kicking him as best you could, wriggling around and trying to free yourself. You stretched out your arm, reaching with the very tips of your fingers as they grazed the gun’s barrel. Come on! Come on dammit! The man had managed to finally tear your shirt completely open just as your finger snared at the gun and finally grabbed it.

It happened within a second. The loud bang of a sawed off shotgun echoed so loud that the people in the streets could hear it. Blood washed over you like a tsunami, splattering your face, soaking your clothes, as you fired the gun right into the man’s stomach. He went limp, his eyes changed from rage filled and bloodthirsty to nothing and hollow in an instant. You watched the life and color drain from his face and his dead body collapsed right on top of you, trapping you under it. The awful smell of him, the blood and the gunpowder made your stomach twist in knots and you had to fight from puking.

Footsteps thundered from above and crashed down the stairs, “(Y/N)!!” Dutch called, “(Y/N)!!” He couldn’t see you there from the front of the store, or from behind the counter.

You whimpered out, letting out a cry and he followed. Annabelle was soon behind him. Dutch couldn’t believe his eyes when he found you. You couldn’t see it, but so many emotions twisted on his face. It went from fear, to anger, to pure blood-boiling rage. The man was lucky you shot him, because Dutch wanted to do something far worse. He ran towards you and pulled the corpse pinning you to the ground and flung it away like it was nothing.

“(Y/n), (Y/n)-”

You were shaking like a leaf when he freed you. Instantly Dutch fell to his knees and grabbed ahold of you, wrapping you in his arms as you sobbed. Annabelle stood in shock behind him while Dutch asked, “Annabelle- please get her something- a blanket- towel. Whatever you got,” She ran away without a sound and came back with a blanket.

Dutch took it, still holding you tight, “It’s alright, my dear,” His voice was low and soothing. You buried yourself in his chest, not wanting to face the scene before you, “I’m here-” he cleaned away the blood from your face.

“He- He-” You started to hyperventilate, your mouth felt numb as you struggled to breathe, “I-I- didn’t-”

“Shh- hey. It’s okay,” It didn’t take much for Dutch to understand what happened, seeing the state you were in, “He’s dead, you’re safe now. My poor sweet girl, it’s alright,”  
Annabelle called the lawmen over. She told them what happened and they took away the body, and left you all alone. Dutch would not let you out of his sight, nor his grip.

You wrapped the blanket around you, covering your exposed body as you huddled close to Dutch, afraid that the man would show up again even though you knew you killed him. You couldn’t stop crying, but you did so silently as the tears just kept on falling. You had horrible flashbacks to the night your parents died. Their screams echoed in your mind, mingling with your own now. Dutch quickly helped Annabelle clean up the mess. She noticed the booked you had dropped and handed it to you.

“You can take this home, no need to pay, my dear,”

“It’s for Arthur…” You whispered out in a broken voice, raspy and rough. You were still to frozen in fear to really move.

Dutch took the book for you, stuffing it away someplace you didn’t see. He kept his arm around your shoulder and herded you out of the store, telling Annabelle he’d be back later in the week. Right now he just wanted to get you back home, safe and sound.

He talked to you lightly on the ride home, “I’m sorry,” He said, you rode up front, Dutch’s arms encased you, ensuring your safety. You leaned back into his chest and kept the blanket tightly held around you, “I should have heard- I… I was foolish. Stuck in my head,” He was admitting in his own way that he was distracted by Annabelle, “I should have done better.”

“It’s okay,” Your tiny voice was barely a whisper, but he still heard you. You had finally stopped crying. Your face hurt a lot, you knew there would be a bruise and several cuts on your cheeks. Your legs hurt, so did your neck, and back. Everything hurt really.

“It’s not okay,” Dutch’s voice was low and he sounded like he hated himself, “I swore I’d keep you safe. I…” He took in a deep breath, not wanting to worry himself over the if onlys. He shook his head, left with nothing but disappointment, “We’ll get you cleaned up, my sweet girl, feed you and get your face patched up.”

The rest of the ride was in silence. When you had gotten back to Fortunes Hollow Dutch let out a loud call beckoning everyone to come out of there hiding spots. When the rest of them laid eyes on you, the nearly lost it. While Dutch explained everything to Hosea and Arthur, Susan took you off by herself, seeing as she was the only other woman around.

She took you to your tent and gave you a sponge bath of sorts. She talked a lot, but you didn’t really listen, instead just enjoying the hot water she ran down your back and dripped onto your hair. It felt good to finally get the smell of death and blood off you. You could hear Arthur and Hosea losing their minds back in the center of camp, demanding they kill the bastard, until Dutch told them you did it already when he attacked you.

After you got dressed, Dutch called you out of your tent, and kindly offered to let you stay the night in his. You gladly accepted, not wanting to be alone with your thoughts, nor alone at all. He moved your cot to the other side of his large and luxury tent.

You sat with your legs crossed on the edge of your bed, watching Dutch loot around in some chest of his, “Arthur liked his book,” He told you. That was nice. You nearly forgotten about it.

“Where is he?” You asked, noticing you hadn’t seen him since you got cleaned up.

“Said he had something to do and left off in a hurry,”

“Oh… Is.. he mad?”

“Mad? Sweet girl, no. Well, not mad at you at least- Ah! Here we are,” He had found some old book tucked away. He wandered back over toward you and pulled up a chair beside your bed. He waved his hand at you a few times while showing you what he had, “You might like this. It might help you feel better. Arthur told me how scared you were to kill someone, I’m sorry it had to be this way.”

You did hate that feeling. You finally took a human life. It didn’t change the way you felt, it only reassured you that killing and taking lives just wasn’t something you had in you. The book’s title simply said A Way of Thought. You didn’t understand, so your silent question as to what exactly this where came from the blank stare you gave Dutch.

“It’s a book about human philosophy. It teaches you how to think outside the box, how to look at things from other angles.”

You slowly shook your head, “I don’t want to kill people Dutch. Even the bad ones,” You confessed. He sat there listening to you, giving you his full attention, “My mother always told me it wasn’t right. It still don’t feel… it didn’t feel right. Even then. I… don’t want to be..”

“Like us?” He finished what you were thinking. It was true, you didn’t really want to be much of an outlaw.

“I want to do what my mother did. What my grandfather taught her to do, what my family has done for generations.” You felt it rooted deep in your heart, you knew that this was your calling. Maybe yes, you lived with a bunch of outlaws, criminals and thieves, but that didn’t mean you had to be one.

“And what’s that?” Dutch raised a brow.

You mulled it over, then finally choked it out, “I want to be a doctor. I want to save lives. Not end them,” You stared up at Dutch, watching him react to your little dream.

You were surprised he didn’t laugh and tell you a woman couldn’t be a doctor like so many people told your mother. He didn’t call you silly, or foolish. He looked at you the same way your father used to. With a love and need to protect you, keep you safe, and make you happy. Dutch gave you a small warm smile, “Then I’ll be sure to make you the best god damn doctor this side of the Mississippi.”


	8. A Trip to Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the support!! I'm sorry I haven't been around, but I have these chapters saved up so I might as well post them!!!!! Please let me know what you think! More coming soon!!

The sun was falling slowly from its high throne, falling into the mountain range above. The wild colors of reds and blues and yellows bloomed across the sky making a messy painting of a sunset. The cool valley was a lot different from the hot desert but you welcomed the change with open arms. It was a bit chilly. A sneaky little breeze worked past the nape of your neck and caused you to pulled tighter on your thin sweater. You could barely remember the boiling heat you left behind in the summer sun of Arizona. A lot had changed, you reminded yourself as you pulled a pair of fingerless gloves from your pocket and put them on.

You had made it to Nevada, just as Dutch had wanted some few months ago. But you didn’t get there according to Dutch’s original plans. Actually, you didn’t get according to plan at all.

It happened a few months ago, you could barely remember the rush of it all. Dutch had some… Business partner named Colm O’Driscoll. Apparently, Dutch cut him short by a lot of money in some bank robbery. You got to meet Colm and his brother one night when they stormed into your camp during dinner. They demanded money and a lot of it.

When Dutch stood tall and waved his hands in peace, saying he had no such money and made no such promise, Colm swore he’d be back and that he had better have his money. Dutch took the threat as if it were a train heading straight towards him at maximum capacity.

That night he made you all pack everything as quickly as possible. Susan and Arthur did most of the heavy lifting while Hosea ran ahead on horseback to scout a path out of the county. Dutch kept you close to his side all night, making sure you were within arm’s length. You didn’t remember much after that, you were so tired that you slept half the trip.

Colm and his brother chased you and your gang out of Dodge, and you were pretty sure he was following you north into Nevada too. You left in such a hurry in the middle of the night. You still think about it. Much to your surprise though, Annabelle came with you too.

When Dutch told her of his true nature, which was that he was a wanted criminal across the country, she didn’t shy away and leave him like most of his other suitors. She insisted on coming with you, she left her book store behind for her sister to take care of.

Several months had passed now. You were slowly returning to your usually chipper self. Ever since that drunk assaulted you… You changed. You were more quiet than normal, and you were very depressed. You couldn’t stop thinking about it, about your mother, about your father, about how fucked up your life was ever since those bastards killed your parents. You were so stuck in your rut that you nearly didn’t notice your 13th birthday approaching.

The hot desert summer was replaced with cool and shady autumn. Dutch had taken you to the furthers corner of Nevada. 40 miles south of Oregon, 35 miles east of California, in the shadow of Paradise Mountain, you rested in the grassy valley known as Paradise Valley. A few miles within was the bustling busy farming town known as Sugartown. It was nice to return to a climate you were more familiar with. Autumn was always your favorite season. The colors, the smell, the food. You loved it all.

The gang wanted to do something special for your birthday. They wanted a party, but you asked them to keep it simple. Today, however, you were going to face another fear.  
You had gone to town with Hosea, he was picking up some supplies from the general store, and you asked him if you could run off a bit on your own. He was wary, unsure if you could handle yourself alone seeing as last time you nearly gotten killed. But he let you go after he gave you a spare revolver he had on him. You knew you wouldn’t need it.

Ever since you told Dutch how badly you wanted to be a doctor, he had started collecting medical books for you. More so Annabelle found those books for you, seeing as she was a better bookworm than either you or Dutch. She was lucky to find a few on your trip up to Sugartown, but there wasn’t a book store here much to your disappointment. The books she got you though were not a lot of help. They were outdated and old and surely could use an up keeping. They mostly taught you very basic medical concepts that anyone could know.

You stood outside a building, staring at its door. Your eyes flicker to the sign above that read ‘Doctor’s Office.’ The biggest fear you had right now was stepping inside that building and asking the doctor inside if he had any old books he’d like to give up. Another fear was that he would say no to you. One, because you were still a child, and two… you were female. You could always remember all the men that gave your mother a hard time simply because she was a woman. She gave up on her dream to be a doctor, moved as far away as possible from her family, and became a stay at home mom who occasionally made medicine from local fauna and sold them.

“Okay,” You told yourself, “You can do this. You got this,” You hyped yourself up, biting your lip, and then rushed towards the door. The second you got near it you made a sharp U-turn and waltzed back into the street. This was going to be hard. You didn’t have a lot of time. Hosea would be getting done with his supply run soon. Taking a big deep breath, you held it in and ran for the door again. This time you managed to freeze on the spot with your hand barely touching the door nob. You counted to three then turned the nob and opened the door.

It was old and rustic inside the little doctor’s office. There was a man sitting behind a counter reading a newspaper. He looked old, but not elderly. He was stuck somewhere in-between. He looked nice though, so that was a plus. He stood up, folded his paper and greeted you with a smile.

“Hey there, miss,”

“Hi,” You sounded small like a shy little mouse. You kept your arms folded across your chest and held tightly to your arms, “Um… I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Not at all,” He wasn’t very tall. Much shorter than Dutch or Arthur, and he had warm creamy brown hair that matched his shabby handlebar mustache, “What can I get for you?” His glasses were thick and reflected the low light coming in from the afternoon sun.

“Um- I.. I was wondering if you had any books you’d like to get rid of?” You pressed your lips into a thin line and gnawed on your inner cheek, “I-I.. I’m collecting them for educational reasons. Um-… Like books on medicine? And how to make them?” The doctor seemed very surprised by your request. You rushed out some fumbled words saying, “They aren’t for me! I… It’s for my church?” Your lie sounded like a question and the man raised a brow.

“Sure,” He said slowly while observing your bazaar behavior, “Let me check in my office,” He disappeared for several minutes. You stood in your spot, awkward and nervous while biting your tongue and grinding your teeth.

You looked around the office. It was cute and humble. There were photos on the wall but you couldn’t make out who of. There was the counter that you stood behind, then a doorway behind it that lead down to a hallway that you couldn’t see the end of. Some soft comfy chairs cluttered against the adjacent wall of the counter. There were some shelves on the walls too with dozens of jars and cans that you guessed were medicines.

He came back with three very large books. They looked old, but not as old as the one’s Annabelle got for you. He set them down on the low counter between you and him,

“What’s your name, miss?” When your eyes bugged wide, he went on to say, “Oh- not to pry or anything. You just remind me of someone I use to know. You look a lot like this woman I used to date, I worked for her father in New York City.”

You approached the counter with caution, “Um.. I’m Edna. Edna Lancaster,” You lied on the spot, not wanting to give away who you were. His words boggled your mind however, “You said you're from New York City?”

He slid the books towards your end of the counter, “Mhm. I use to work for this man named Harrison McDuffy. You look a lot like his daughter Blaire,” You tried so very hard not to gasp. He just spoke your mother’s name, her maiden name and your grandfather’s name, “A shame. I heard she and her husband died. They never found her daughter though,”

With care, you took the heavy books from the counter. They stood stacked against your chest, “You must have been close. That’s so sad to hear.” You’re lips twitched and quivered into an awkward smile that flustered back and forth between that and a grimace. The books were a bit heavier than you expected.

“A bit,” Said the doctor as he took off his glasses and smuggled them clean with a part of his coat, “I hope you can find a good home for those books,” He pointed a free finger at your stack in your arms.

“Oh-” You sucked in a sharp breath, “I will- for sure! Definitely!” You were acting a little… odd. Perhaps it was a mix between the weight of the books pulling your arms down and the odd and creepy information you have learned from this man, “Thank you so much!” You spun quickly on your heel and hurried to get to the door.

As you lightly kicked the door open and breezed past it into the cool air you heard the man call out, “Come back any time!” You made a mental note to never go back there ever again. The books strained your arms and caused cramps to start forming between your shoulders. Where the hell was Hosea and the wagon? You tracked back to the outer edges of town where you last saw him.

Frantically you looked around. Your heart started to flutter in the wrong direction. Were was Hosea? Did he forget you? You hated how worried and tense you had become in the last half year. From your parent's death to the drunk bastard who assaulted you… Life was throwing a lot of hard balls at your way. You hoped it didn’t get worse. You weren’t sure if your worried mind could handle it.

Suddenly you felt a tap on your shoulder and you let out a small yip and turned around. Fear washed away and formed into heat that soaked your cheeks. A scarlet blush of embarrassment covered your face at that animal like sound that came out of you seconds before, “Hosea!” You whisper-yelled, “You scared me!”

The older man chuckled and without warning took those books from your arms. You wanted to carry them because you were mature and your own person but mostly stubborn, but you were relieved to finally breathe again. Your arms hung like wet noodles by your sides as you walked with Hosea.

He seemed overly happy, more than usual, “Where’d you get these, girl?” He quirked a smile and raised a brow, “Steal ‘em?” He let out a laugh but you didn’t.

Your little brows furrowed together, “No,” You quipped out, “I asked for them. They’re medicine books,” A flash of your gaze ran over Hosea. You shared a glance for a second before you rounded the street corner where you spotted the wagon.

“Oooh,” He sounded out, “More to add to the collection, hm?” He had gotten to the wagon’s back end and tucked them in between two egg crates, “How many of those books do you have now? Seven?”

“Yeah,” You walked around the wagon and towards the front end, “I’ve read the other ones so much that I needed a few more,” You started to step up into the seats above when Hosea called out to you.

“Hold on a second, (Y/N),” Hosea came up from behind you and spoke while you climbed back down, “We’ve got one more thing to get.”

When your feet smacked back onto the dirty and dusty road you asked Hosea, “What else do we need to get? It looks like we’ve got enough supplies for a few weeks,” The back wagon was jammed packed full of crates and jugs and boxes, “I don’t think we’ve got room for anything else back there.”

“That’s alright,” The two of you started walking again, “This doesn’t go in a wagon,” You wondered where you were going and looked at each store that you passed and didn’t go into. Was it money? Jewelry? Cigars? Was it something small enough to fit in your pocket if it didn’t need to go in a wagon? You weren’t very sure but what you did notice was that you were getting close and closer to the stables in the center of Sugartown. Did he need horse supplies? Hm.

A man was waiting in front of the large open stable doors. The smell of horse, hay, and manure wafted from the darkness within. The stable boy approached Hosea and they met each other halfway with a firm handshake and a smile.

“Hosea!” He exclaimed as if he hadn’t seen the man in many years, “It’s good to see you again!” They both laughed at that with low and loud chuckles.

“What can I say, David, you’re a very handsome man with very handsome horses,” Another fit of chuckles at the inside jokes you just didn’t understand. Who was this man?

Why had you never seen or heard of this… David before? Hosea’s voice snapped you out of your confused and dazed state, “Is Bessie still around? She said she had to leave but I wanted to catch her before she ran off and closed up for the day.” Bessie, another person you didn’t know.

You wondered why you were here and why Hosea brought you along. It sounded like he was being a humble con man by befriending these people and was surely working towards their demise as well. Don’t mistake the mild manner Hosea for being as sweet and innocent as he lets the world see. You’ve seen Hosea lose his temper faster than Dutch, and was scarier too. At least with Dutch, it’s a lot of yelling and finger-pointing…

Hosea was the kind of guy to go missing when made angry or mad. Then he’d come back with a loaded gun, point it at your back, and make you apologize to him publicly while threatening your life. You’ve seen him do this twice to some lawmen before. You couldn’t believe it… two cops standing side by side with smiles as wide as the grand canyon, sweating bullets, while happy smiling Hosea stood behind them with a gun in each hand at each spine, he’d shoot them paralyzed, which was worse than death.

You shook away the vivid memory and followed Hosea and David inside the stables. They were chatting amongst each other and you didn’t care to listen. You stared at the horses inside. There wasn’t that many, just a handful here and there. A woman came from one of the empty stalls, she wore clothes just like you. A poofy and loose tan blouse and was tucked into her pants, which in turn was tucked into her knee-high riding boots. She looked wealthy, happy, and like she enjoyed what she was doing. This was Bessie. Her hair was a deep oak brown that bounced around in thick lockets and curls.

The smile on Bessie’s face went from mild to extravagant the second she locked eyes with Hosea. Who has the woman and why haven’t you met her before? How long has

Hosea knew her? She quickly left her work, leaning the pitchfork on the wall and scurried over.

“Hosea! I was just about to close up!” She stopped right in front of him, hands folded away as she crossed her arms, and smiled wide again, “Is this (Y/N)?” Bessie looked at you and you felt the urge to stick your tongue out at her, but you kept put.

He placed a hand on your head like he always did, and Hosea nodded, “Sure is. She’s the one and only,” He sounded proud to introduce you to this woman, “She’s very bright and I think today is her birthday?” No… No!

You looked up at the man, the cheeky grin on his face, “No, Hosea I said-” It didn’t matter what you said. Bessie seemed to already know it was your birthday too. She cut you off with a little giggle.

“Oh! Is it? Why that’s so neat. How old are you (Y/N)?” Well, at least she was nice. Bessie stared at you with bright green eyes.

“Um- uh.. I’m 13.” God you hated it. You hated saying it. You didn’t want to be 13. You didn’t want to be 12 either. You wanted to be 11 years old, two summers ago when your parents took you to Canada for your birthday. So much has changed since then. You honestly hated it and you hated thinking about it. Never again would you have another good birthday. So long as your parents were dead, you were sure every birthday to come would suck and make you just as depressed as you were today.

However, something was about to change, something that would change your spoiled opinion on birthdays. Bessie looked at you, joy on her face and light and life and oddly love breathed from her skin and oozed into the air. Her kindness was toxic. What was it about women that made them love you so much? Maybe it was the fact that you looked like a little boy for the most part. Maybe they found it cute that a little girl was dressed like a little boy. But Bessie wasn’t wearing a dress or hats or gloves or heals or anything ladylike, though she was as beautiful as a princess despite that.

“(Y/N),” You stared at her, “Would you like a birthday present?” You wanted to say no but when you gazed up at Hosea, he beamed down at you and nodded his head silently.

Everyone was grossly happy while you were wallowing in depression.

“Sure,” You finally said after a moment or two, “I guess, yeah.”

“Well,” Hosea started, “How would you like a horse?” He asked you, a hand now at your shoulder as he gave a gentle squeeze, “It’s about time you started learning how to ride.”

Everything made sense now. All the smiles, the kindness, it was all for your birthday after all. Everyone wanted to spoil you but you just really wanted a hug and someone to cry on.

But a horse? A real one? Your own? For a brief second, you had a flash of thoughts squeeze around in your mind. You’d have a new friend and a new responsibility. You saw yourself learning how to ride a horse, loving the gentle beast and exploring the world by horseback. How much was it going to cost though? You didn’t want the gang spending money on you when you did nothing to bring money to the gang. You felt conflicted.

Your hesitation caused Bessie to inch closer to you, a smile still on her face, “You can pick out anyone you want from my stables today if you like.” You did kind of like the sound of that. You looked to Hosea for reassurance and he pressed a hand into your back to walk you forward.

There were five horses that you could see. Two on the left and three on the right. The first two in the left stalls where females, both working horses and way too big for you to ride. You walked a little further into the stables and found two other horses facing towards you. A white and brown spotted female and a grey male. Both small and friendly looking. Your attention, however, was caught by the last horse in the further stall deep within the stables. You could only see his rear end, he was facing the wrong way. His coat was bright blonde. Warm and yellow like the sun, but he had a dark fluffy tail as black as the night. A mustang. You had seen plenty like him in the wild.

“What about this one?” You pointed at the golden mustang while watching Bessie’s smile slowly fall.

“Oh-… he’s.. I wouldn’t pick him,” She met up with you as you stared into the stall. You could see his mane, just as black as his tail, “He’s not broken in yet.”

“Broken in?” The knowledge you had on horses was limited. Sure, you could go out into the world and have little to no problem identifying which plant is what, but horse terms? Broken in? Colic? Chaps? Spurs? Stirrups? That was all… cowboy stuff. Outlaw stuff. You didn’t know those things.

Hosea had managed to join you as well in the back end of the stables, “Means you can’t ride him. He’s a wild horse that hasn’t been beaten into obedience yet,” It sounded awful when he put it like that.

You took a few steps forward then approached the stall. The mustang inside swung his ear around towards you, “He’s pretty,” You said quietly, “He does look a little wild,” Wild and majestic and beautiful. To your surprise, and everyone else’s, the mustang slowly turned around in his stall. He looked beautiful, yes, but sad. He looked hurt and very much broken despite what Bessie and Hosea said.

The two adults shared a worried glance. This horse was foul and temperamental. Hosea had tried to ride him once when Bessie first got him. That was an awfully painful day he didn’t want to remember. Since then the mustang had stubbornly kept to himself and avoid most humans he came in contact with. Yet here he was, now sticking his head out of his stall and sniffing towards you. His head was handsome as well. The mustang’s snout was black but faded into the warm gold of the rest of his coat.

Bessie was about to pull you back, fearing the temperamental beast might try to snap his jaws at you. Yet nothing like that happened. You raised a hand and met the horse halfway while he sniffed at your fingers before trying to lick them. Maybe he wanted something to eat? He wasn’t that mean, “You guys are liars, he’s so nice,” You glanced back at Hosea and Bessie who was wide-eyed surprised.

Your smile was small and shy and you turned back to the horse, “You just want a friend,” You said quietly, “Right?” You stared into one of his eyes and saw your own reflection. It was decided then, and nothing could change your mind. This was the horse for you. Bessie tried for a second time to talk you out of picking the mustang but she couldn’t shake you away from him. There wasn’t a mean old animal in him, just a scared and lonely one, much like yourself.

Not once did the mustang fight you when you pulled at the ropes that made the make-shift reins around his neck. He slowly followed you out of the stall as you guided him towards the front of the stables. Hosea had picked out a saddle for you but you refused to put it on the mustang or even ride him. You weren’t ready yet and you wanted to love this animal not make him a tool.

“Not gonna ride him then?” Hosea asked.

You shook your head as you watched David the stable boy carry a saddle down the road and through town to where the wagon was. Hosea stood beside you, “Not yet,” You said, “I will after we’ve had him around for a bit,” You didn’t know much about horses, or animals even, but you knew you had to respect them.

“Got a name?”

You hadn’t even thought of one. You looked deep into your mind, searching for a name for this majestic beast. The horse was standing behind you, minding his own business as he swatted flies away with his tail. You turned around and approached him, giggling a little when he bobbed his head and curled his lips and lapping out to smell your hand. He already looked a lot happier to be out of that stall.

“Callus… You look like a Callus,” You told the horse. His ears flicked towards you then away again. David had given you some sugar cubes that you dug out of your pocket and gave to him. It wasn’t a flattering name, but you liked it. And so his name was Callus.

______________________________________________________________________________________

Everyone was so happy. Maybe it was just an excuse to party and drink, but everyone seemed to be enjoying your birthday a whole lot more than you. You sat on a log beside the open fire, a smile on your face despite how empty and fake it was. Callus was tucked away with all the other horses and you’d catch yourself looking at him every now and then. He was a bit of a bastard on the ride back home because he was tied behind the wagon and he kept trying to run away. You felt bad, you wanted to let him loose and run free but Hosea paid good money for him.

The new camp was right along a river deep in the woods not too far outside Sugartown. It was a good 15-minute ride back to camp. The shelter of the trees kept you away from the sun’s warm rays. Leaves had dried and turned bright colors. Red, yellow and orange leaves would flutter to the ground every now and then. Some blackberry bushes grew along the banks of the river and that was where you decided to put your tent. Once you had gotten back to camp and unloaded the supplies, everyone made sure to bask you in some kind of attention. Dutch and Annabelle had gotten you new clothes seeing as you were growing out of the ones you already had. You were very thankful because you honestly needed new clothes and they weren’t all that bad either. Susan had gotten you some real riding boots with spurs and everything. You’d be a made into the perfect little cowgirl before you even knew it. Arthur had greeted you with a smile and flagged you over towards the center of camp were food awaited.

The gang sat down at dinner with you, joking and laughing and singing songs. It was all very merry and you joined in from time to time. You didn’t want anyone to worry, and you didn’t want to bother anyone with your problems or how you felt deep inside. You had to be happy for them, they cared for you after all. Dutch had even offered you a drink of whiskey which you bravely and foolishly drank. It took everything in your power to not spit out the bitter and hot liquid. It stung on the way down and warmed your insides. Why did all these freaks enjoy this stuff? Ugh, you were not key on trying whiskey again for a long time.

That didn’t stop the rest of the gang from drinking. At some point in the night, you excused yourself away from them and over to your tent. You sat along the little bench you had outside the front curtains, looking over the spurs you had gotten. You flicked the little star and watched it spin, spin, spin then stop. You flicked it again, and again, and then held the spurs in your lap. Silence followed and filled your head while you blocked out the sound of Dutch’s low boisterous laughter mingled with Susan’s evil cackle.

Why couldn’t you have had one more birthday with them? Just one more year? Why couldn’t your parents… Why did they die? Why did it have to be them? Why you? Why you’re family? You traced your finger along the leather work in your spurs, wondering what life would be like if nothing ever happened. What would your mother have gotten you this year? Probably a new pair of shoes and a dress, with a doll and a book, like she did almost every year. Your father would have taken you out for lunch, gone into town and bought you candy and whatever else you wanted. At the end of the night, you’d all have dinner together, cuddle on the couch while your mother read stories from a book. You’d fall asleep with them there on the couch….

You missed them so much. You could feel the tears well up in your eyes. Why now? Why did it have to hurt so much now?

“(Y/n)?” Shit! Flustered and embarrassed you rubbed your eyes quickly. You made sure no tears had fallen or escaped.

“Y-yeah?” You looked up and over the little wall of blackberry bushes, you had between you and the camp. It was Arthur. You could barely make out his face in the dark. The only light you had came from the small lantern beside your feet. He made a little dip of his head, gesturing to the spot beside you.

You scooted over and made room for him as he passed by, “You disappeared,” His face was a little dirty. He had dirt smudged into his cheek and nose. His hair was looking a little longer too. It just barely curled around the back of his ears. Hosea had normally made sure to keep Arthur’s hair well groomed because Arthur was a little to stupid to remind himself sometimes. But lately, Hosea has been distracted by only what you could have guessed was Bessie.

He was right though, you had disappeared, “I’m just a little tired,” You lied.

“Bullshit,” Arthur sat down beside you and nudged you along the bench some more. You sat side by side, you could feel the warmth radiate off him in the places you touched, “You normally don’t go to bed till well past one in the morning,”

How did he know that? You squinted at him, “I had a rough day,” You didn’t want to ask that question. He wasn’t wrong though. You did spend most nights awake and reading books. You rarely got any sleep nowadays. Nightmares were evil, tricky and sneaky creatures that had made themselves at home in your dreams, “Hosea made me get a freaking horse! That’s a lot to take in.”

For some reason, he laughed at that and you felt a small smile twitch on your lips, “Well, I guess that’s a lot. I stole my first horse,” He gave you a side glance with an awkward smile, “I’m surprised Hosea actually got the money to buy that horse for you. He must really like you, Dutch too.” You already knew that. You could see the love they had for you, they showed it in their own ways. The same for Susan and Annabelle. They all loved you for some odd reason. What was so great about you?

“They like you too,” You quipped, “We’re their kids to them,” That was the truth. They loved Arthur just as much as they loved you.

“Mhm, we always will be, I’m afraid,” The two of you shared an odd laugh. Arthur made himself busy though and dug around in that satchel he always had on him, “I didn’t come over here to just pester you though,” he said.

“Oh yeah?” You didn’t think he was pestering you.

“Yeah,” Arthur found what he was looking for and you watched his brows raise and a grin grow on his face, “I know you said no gifts, and not to make a big deal out of it but I got you something,” He had something in his hands that you couldn’t make out. You felt a heavy pit form in your chest.

“Come on Arthur- I thought at least you would listen to me. Everyone got me something already-”

“Stop it!” He waved a hand in the air and gave you this look of honesty, “You’re still a kid. Enjoy it,” At the same time he handed you a small box that could fit in your lap, “Open it.”

He was bossy, wasn’t he? You took in a deep breath, feeling the air fill your lungs and you breathed away the dark pit in your chest. Carefully you lifted the lid. It was hard to see, the light was limited in the dark, but you could make out two things.

A beautiful knife was sitting in the box, latched and sealed by its leather holster. It was beautiful because the handle was as white as snow with vivid flowers and skulls carved into it. The details were burned into the handle so that the dark black contrasted the satin white. You unhitched the latch holding the large blade in place. You watched the silver light reflect the midnight moon as you pulled the knife free. You could see a similar pattern etched into the blade that was on the handle. It was a large hunting knife.

“I know you aren’t to keen on keeping a gun on you- and… I thought you could use something to protect yourself with- And it comes in handy too,” Arthur’s 16-year-old voice was still awkward and broken in many places. He gazed away as you held the knife in your hands. Was he worried if you’d like it? You flipped it a few times slowly in your hands, looking over both sides. It was amazing. He stammered on saying, “You can stop borrowing mine now.”

There was one last thing in the box. You set the knife down and gently picked up the delicate little paper inside. It looked like he tore it from a journal. As you unfolded the note you could make out a ‘Have a Happy Birthday, (Y/n).’ With a drawing of a rosebud barely blooming on a thorny stem. He signed it with a small capital letter ‘A.’

“You drew this?” You looked up at him with raised brows.

“The art book helped a lot,” The book you got him that awful night… “I thought you’d like something pretty to hang up. I see you staring at roses a lot too.”

You looked back down at the drawing. It was really good, it looked like he really took his time on it. The petals were shaded well, and the stem looked as though it was hovering above the page. You felt a sad part of your heart crack open and break loose.

“They were my mother’s favorite flower,” Your voice was shallow and low, “She use to grow bushes all over the house… They’re all probably dead now.” You thought more about your mother and how much you missed her. She was everything to you, your role model and teacher. On today of all days, you missed her the most. You let out a heavy sigh and saw a tear fall that you didn’t even realize was there. It splatted onto the note and slowly stained into the page.

Arthur noticed rather quickly and leaned forward, “Hey-” He looked worried and confused, “What’s with the tears, kid?”

You tried your best to fight your sadness and keep them back, “I..” You opened your mouth then closed it, sighed and finally said, “I miss my mother… I wish she was here,” A small sob slipped from your throat, “Everyone…” You sucked in a sharp and shaky breath. You felt a few more tears roll down your cheeks, “They’ve all been nice and they got me stuff but I still feel….” You were at a loss for words, “I feel bad,” You finally bubbled out.

It was hard to watch you cry. Arthur didn’t much like seeing your tears, especially in vain. But he understood your pain. He could feel in a deep locked part of his heart the pain it felt to grow older another year and miss everything you use to have. He missed his mother too, and he also hated his birthday. Every year it came around, it just reminded him how much older he was and how much further away from his mother he got. He carefully wrapped an arm around you, unsure how to comfort you in such a dire time, but he tried his best.

“It’s alright,” He said as you leaned into his embrace, “It’s alright, (Y/n), you can feel bad.”

You shook your head, “I don’t want to. I want to go back- I don’t want to live like this. I want my parents, I want my home!” You started to sob even more. You couldn’t understand your own grief, it came suddenly and in larger and larger waves. You felt like your world had already fallen apart and you had just only realized it. It wasn’t until now did you ever really let yourself grieve about your parent’s death. And you hated it, you felt awful, you felt a type of raw pain that couldn’t be healed.

Yet Arthur stayed put while he felt your pain. He didn’t stop you from crying, and he didn’t speak because he knew there was nothing he could do but just be there for you. He sucked in a deep breath and as the air passed through his lungs and out of his body, he remembered how much he use to cry and how much he wished he has someone to hold him. This was the least he could do for you.

“I hate this,” You muttered quietly as you caught your breath, “I hate being alive.”

“Don’t say that,” Arthur spoke slowly but with a lot of emotion, “Don’t go down that hole.”

You sat up and rubbed your cheeks and eyes, you were still crying, “I do though. I hate it, I want… I want to be with my parents and that’s not here.” He knew what you were trying to say without saying it. Everyone noticed the change in you over the past few months. You had grown more quiet, you did your chores less often and slept very little and busied yourself with reading anything you could.

As you stared at the ground you could imagine the look on his face. One of those sad but concerned ones where his brows knit together slightly and a frown was pulling down his lips, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you have us.” He was right, you didn’t want to hear that. You knew you had them and it was unfair to say this, but the gang wasn’t enough. The gang was actually the opposite of what you wanted but this is what you were stuck with. That’s not to say you didn’t care about all of them… they just… they weren’t your parents.

You took a chance and glanced up at him, he wasn’t even staring at you. He was looking towards the heart of camp, where the adults had started to chat quietly amongst themselves. Their voices sounded miles away. “I miss my ma every day,” Arthur said each word carefully like he planned them out in his head, “I think about her… Every day. And I try not to. The less I think about her…” He paused and scratched his jaw than his neck, “The more I feel like a regular person.” It sounded painful for him to admit, and his advice was bad but personal. He wasn’t very good at expressing himself… At least not vocally.

A lump formed in your throat and you swallowed it down while biting your inner cheek. You took a quick breath in and blinked, “I can’t stop thinking about her,” Your mother was never far from your thoughts, and recently, she was the only thing on your mind, “I… I want to be her… I want to be just like her and make her proud. I… How do I do that? Like this? Here?”

Arthur shook his head and shrugged, “Don’t think about it. Try your best not to at least. It’s what I do. I just try and remember my ma and how good she was, not what she wanted or if she was here or if this or if… anything. She’s gone. It’s hard to accept but… not thinking about it might be a step,” It wasn’t, not a healthy one at least. But it was the easy way out, just blocking out the thought of your mother, she was gone, she isn’t here. Don’t think about her. Don’t think about her, your father, your home, “Think about the gang,” Arthur said as if he was reading your mind, “Think about Dutch and what he wants and Hosea too. Listen to Susan, do your chores, leave the camp once in a while. Don’t stay in your tent all day hiding and only coming out to eat.” He had made his point. But he wasn’t lecturing you, he was speaking from experience. He could remember when he first joined the gang when Dutch took him in, and how hard it was to accept this new life, you were in the same boat.

Maybe you had gotten yourself into a rut too, “I know,” You admitted, knowing that you had abandoned your daily lifestyle “It’s not easy.”

“It’s not,” Arthur shifted around in his seat a bit, “We might not be family, (Y/n), but we’re all we got. You can leave any time you want, no one is forcing you to stay. We didn’t kidnap you, we just took you in because it was the right thing to do,” You heard that many times before. The right thing to do… that was one of Dutch’s ‘morals’ and teachings that he preached it often.

It had been so hard accepting this new life. It had almost been a year now. Almost. It’d be a year in the spring. The first few months where fun because you escaped death, but after that is when the reality set in that your parents were gone. You were just lucky enough to get robbed by the nicest outlaws you’ve ever met.

In a way, you felt better. Not perfect, still depressed but there was a weight off your shoulders. You felt lighter somehow, “Thank you, Arthur,” You muttered.

“Naah,” He drawled out as he hoisted himself to his feet, “Don’t thank me,” You sat up straight and remembered the box in your lap. You clutched it close, cherishing it already, “Just get some sleep, alright?”

“Okay, Pops,” The smallest, shyest smirk crawled on your face.

“Don’t call me that.” When Arthur’s face dropped to a wince you snickered quietly.

You looked at him, “Sorry, Pa,”

Arthur threw his hand in the air and pointed a finger at your with a glare in his eyes, “Dammit (Y/n)! I’m serious! Go to bed you snot and be ready to wake up early!” He started to stomp off. He made it pretty far before he finally stopped and looked back at you, unsure if he actually got through to you or not.

You sat there for a second then got up, holding the box as you brought it up to your chest, “Goodnight, Arthur,” You gave him a smile as you picked up the lantern resting beside the bench.

He smiled back and gave a silent nod of his head in return before heading back into camp. You stood there for a moment and watched him return to the others. They mumbled and talked, then Arthur whispered something to Dutch and before you knew it they were smiling again. For outlaws, they sure were happy… simple folk loved simple things you supposed. You killed the lantern and walked into your tent feeling tired for the first time in days. You felt the call of sleep as you sat down on your bed, it lulled and cradled you into peaceful dreams.


	9. Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inside of the house was dark and smelled like a mixture of smoke and wet dirt. As you ran through the empty kitchen in the back of the house, up front were a dining room and living room came together in the foyer, where Arthur was laying on the floor at the foot of the old staircase. He had his gun in both hands pointed up to a figure halfway down the stairs.
> 
> It was an old man, he had his hands up in defense and fear was on his face that was taken over by an unkempt beard peppered with silver hairs that stuck out against his faded brown ones. Fear was on his face, “I-I-I didn’t mean!” The old man let out a yelp when Dutch pulled his gun out too, pointing it at the homeless man, “I’m sorry! I’m real sorry- please don’t kill me! I’m just a useless old man! I’ve been squatting here all summer waiting for the law to kick me out again!!” He looked like he was ready to piss himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Hello again everyone!! Thank you all so so so so much for all the support that you've given this fic!! Do not worry!! I am NOT DEAD!! I've just been busy with finals and college and stuff!! Please show the fic some love by leaving a kudos or commenting! I'd love to hear what you all have to say!!
> 
> I made a playlist on Spotify for Homeless at Home! Follow it to dive deeper into the world of the Gang and Reader!!  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/savvyjow/playlist/0d9NZpxP4XTlXzq3pe1vda?si=iLkTmISkRc2MPxcv8rEX8g
> 
> Lastly, everyone gets ready, because these next few chapters are leading up to something big!!))

The sky was cloudy and the wind was strong, chilly, and cold enough to annoy you. Not that you weren’t already annoyed. Your legs and back had been hurting since the moment you had gotten on Callus. He was still a large horse and you were still small. That was a week ago. Callus was a tame animal, after all, he was a bit jumpy and easily agitated, but you could change that with trust and bonding, or so you were told. Nobody told you that riding a horse would be painful though.

Although it was hard to ignore, you did your best to shut out the sore throbbing pain that came from your lower back and legs. You carried on, doing your best to ride behind Arthur who was riding behind Dutch. The three of you were going somewhere very important and Arthur said this would be a good chance to bring you along for once. He argued that you needed to get out of camp more often and Dutch took the bait. 

Almost an hour later and you were nearly at the end of this long ride. Your destination was close, that’s what Dutch said at least. Something awful has happened within the last few days. Hosea had gone missing. No one has seen him in four days, and this was not normal. You checked in town, in the jail, in the saloon. You found no sign of him until Arthur had went to Bessie’s stables and found David. He said she was home, and he saw Hosea giving her a ride on a wagon a few nights ago. He said he might have taken her home. So the best lead was Bessie’s own house, deep in Paradise Valley. She owned a large ranch miles away from Sugartown. 

It was hard to believe she would take this ride to sell horses in town when she could have done it off her property. You laid eyes on a large horse ranch, bigger than anything you’ve ever seen. You could fit the whole town on this plot of land. Dutch, Arthur, and yourself were at a stop before the large gateway that welcomed you to Bessie’s fabulous home. Not a single one of you had any idea she stemmed from such a… wealthy family.

The place seemed almost totally abandoned aside from the horses who grazed away in their fenced in pastures. It was nearly noon as you rode towards the house. Dutch took the lead, a hand always ready to grab his pistol. Arthur, however, was relaxed and making fun of Dutch’s paranoia. Dutch was only like that because you were there, you knew that Arthur knew that. Even Dutch knew that. The only reason why you weren’t as nervous as Dutch was because Arthur made a valid point earlier, Bessie was a friend, not a foe. It was clear she liked you, Dutch and Arthur. She hadn’t meet Annabelle or Susan yet but that was also because Hosea kept her at a distance from the gang. Dutch did the same with Annabelle, which is why no one was bothered at his hesitation.

Just as you had gotten near the house someone started rustling away behind a door as they jimmied it open. Dutch’s hand inched closer to his side where his guns rested in their holsters. The door swung open and out came a man you didn’t know. He was tall and skinny with big sunk in eyes, “Can I help you?” At least he was friendly and not threatening you to get off his land.

Dutch cleared his throat and gave a small wave, “I am so sorry, sir,” he started off. You could hear the showmen inside him come to life, “I’m looking for a friend of mine. I was told he was last spotted here. Maybe you’ve seen him? Tall, blonde hair? Blue eyes? Pointy nose like a rat?” You saw Arthur nearly burst into laughter. He snorted through before he brought his fist to his mouth and dug his teeth into a knuckle. 

“Name’s Hosea?” 

“Yes!” All three of you spoke at once, surprised and delighted to hear his name. Dutch spoke once more, “Have you seen him? Is he here?”

“Yep, he’s here.” The man headed back inside.

Well this was a nice and safe journey across the county. No guns. No shooting. No nothing! Now it was time to get Hosea and go home, right? Dutch needed help moving camp because winter was going to set in soon, but you didn’t have very many options to run to. There was a desert south, but it was barren and not livable, and Colm O’driscoll was down south. Which Dutch didn’t want to run the chances of crossing. You could head north but that would make things colder. East wasn’t an option. Neither was west. Dutch was extremely tempted to stay the winter in Paradise Valley, simply because the winters were mild here. However, Hosea was more familiar with this area and knew more people. 

The door opened again and out came Hosea. He looked… not good. He seemed tired, his hair was messy and his eyes were dark. He was paler than normal as well. He looked like he hadn’t slept since he left camp. Dutch rushed to slide off his horse and took no time asking, “What has happened to you? Where have you been?” Here, clearly, but why?

Hosea started to shake his head and stayed on the large front porch, “I’m sorry Dutch- I.. didn’t mean to get caught up here for so long.”

“What’s going on here?” Dutch asked. You and Arthur had gotten off your mounts as well and followed Dutch up the steps. You stood on the first step while Arthur took the second.

There was a moment of silence as Hosea opened his mouth for a second then closed it. He then sighed and said, “Bessie’s father died,” He spoke quietly, “She… It’s very complicated,”

At some point Dutch had pulled out a cigarette, he lit it with a flick of a match along the side of the little box hidden in his palm. As he dragged in the nicotine he nodded, “As all things are, I’m sure.”

They seemed to have some kind of silent understanding for a moment before Hosea wrung his hands, “Yes, so,” He took a breath, “I’ve been helping Bessie and her sisters with the ah-.. the financial stuff,”

Dutch nodded his head as he steamed out a cloud of smoke, humming, “Mhm, sure,”

“And the legal stuff too. You know, who gets what, what goes where. It’s just he died, um- last night.”

“Oh, he did now?” Dutch raised his brow, not nearly as surprised as he let on, “Maybe that’s why you look like shit?”

Laughter mingled between them and Hosea shook a finger, “I couldn’t have said it better. It was real bad. We brought the doctor from town. Don’t even know what killed him. He just got very sick, lots of vomit, blood, couldn’t eat or sleep. He withered away, really.”

“Awful thing, that’s just awful. I’m sorry to hear that, Hosea, I am,” Dutch paused and this is when you knew the conversation was about to shift, “But we need ya back at camp. I get that this is not a good time but we have to get moving soon, you know that as good as I do.”

“I know Dutch- I know. I’m working on it, I’ve got a place that… Maybe might work for now, it’s actually not far from here,” It was almost as if the world knew he was talking about it. A cold breeze pushed right through the ranch with a heavy gust of mountain air falling from the sky above. Hosea shivered slightly and wrapped his arms together, crossed in front of his chest, “There’s an old house a few miles from here, much deeper in the valley,” He said, “It’s been eaten up by the forest and it’s been abandon for a good few years. I’ve seen it myself, it’s a good spot for now.”

There was a shared moment of silence as another breeze passed through, making a hollow windy sound in your ears as you watched Dutch flick away the dead end of his cigarette, “Alright,” There was a small flare in his attitude, like he was a spoiled child, “Are you coming with us?” He asked.

When Hosea shook his head slowly, you could see a look on Dutch’s face that let you knew every emotion he felt in those five seconds it lasted. Hosea saw it too and he wasn’t quick to rush to his own defense. There was a power struggle here that you or anyone in the world could see. “I can’t,” Hosea finally said, “I… I gotta stay here. Just a few more days, Dutch,” When Dutch didn’t say anything Hosea rambled on, but in a quieter tone as to not let anyone else hear his words but the other outlaw. You couldn’t make out the whispers but whatever Hosea said it must have worked. 

“I understand,” Dutch backed away with a nod of his head, “I do, I know what you mean, it’s a terrible time for all of us. I swear it’s the weather, something about the cold makes us all cold-hearted bustards and brings about these dreadful times.”

“Exactly,” They started walking towards the steps, you and Arthur moved out of the way. Hosea turned to Dutch and shook his hand once, firm and formal, and gave him a nod of his head, “I’ll be here if you need me, but I don’t plan on staying forever,” He laughed a little shrill chuckle that sounded tired and strained. 

“We know. If you aren’t back in a few days I’ll send Arthur to come in and check in on you. Right, boy?” Dutch had this cheeky flashy grin on his face as he passed the lanky cowboy. Arthur rolled his eyes and was sure to walk off a bit to avoid any teasing Dutch had in store for him, “Come on kids, we got a house to look at.” 

As you watched Dutch and Arthur head back to the horses, you looked to Hosea who was standing there with a small smile. You wanted to speak with him, asking him if he was okay and why he had to stay here, but someone came to the front door and pushed it open half way. 

His head barely poked out but you could make out who it was. Your eyes locked for a solid ten seconds as he gazed around the front porch. The doctor from town, the one you got the books from, stood in the doorway of Bessie’s house. You felt a wave of anxiety rush over you. Hosea had noticed the doctor too.

He gave you a little wave of his hand back and forth, “I’ll see you around, (Y/n). Don’t worry about nothing, alright?” He disappeared into the house after that.

Your heart was beating faster than a birds wings while trapped in a cage. The doctor was staring at you from around the front door where he still had his head stuck out. You met his gaze and when you did you felt nauseous. His face was blank and his glasses made it hard to see his eyes, for several seconds he stayed there before dipping behind the door and retreated back into the house. He heard your name. Your real name, not the fake one you gave him.

How much did he already know about you? How much of the truth had Hosea unintentionally tell him? Did he know who you were? About your parents? Worry started to sway back and forth in your mind like a bucket overfilled with water. Each splash and wave was like another thought that said something wasn’t right. Should you tell Dutch? Or maybe Arthur? Who knew what that doctor could do. You tried not to think about it as you returned to Callus. 

The mustang seemed happy to see you at least. He brushed the side of his head against you as you walked by and let out a little chirp as you struggled to get in your saddle. He was a tall horse and you needed to jump to get up on his back.

Arthur and Dutch chattered away while you headed to this house that Hosea spoke about. You, on the other hand, had kept to yourself, focused on your thoughts. Arthur’s advice on ignoring the prying thoughts of your mother had been going pretty smoothly over the past couple weeks since your birthday, but seeing the doctor opened the flood gates again. For the most part, you thought about your mother’s family, the family you had that was still alive. What were they doing now, and what did they think about you?

The ride to the house felt a lot shorter in contrast to your daydreaming. Dutch had managed to find it by following an overgrown path into the forest. It was in better condition than anyone would have planned. It looked livable aside from all the plant overgrowth. It was a two-story house with white paint chipping away, and looked like it was big enough to fit a large family, which is exactly what you needed. At some point, Arthur had wandered inside while you and Dutch had taken a look behind the house. You found a shitty looking barn only a few feet away from tipping over, but it’d have to do. It was good enough to keep the horses in overnight, someone could camp out there and keep watch while keeping the horses' company. 

Suddenly a loud bang came from the second floor of the house, followed by what sounded like rocks tumbling downstairs then someone yelling. You and Dutch looked at each other for a second before heading into the house through the back door.

The inside of the house was dark and smelled like a mixture of smoke and wet dirt. As you ran through the empty kitchen in the back of the house, up front were a dining room and living room came together in the foyer, where Arthur was laying on the floor at the foot of the old staircase. He had his gun in both hands pointed up to a figure halfway down the stairs.

It was an old man, he had his hands up in defense and fear was on his face that was taken over by an unkempt beard peppered with silver hairs that stuck out against his faded brown ones. Fear was on his face, “I-I-I didn’t mean!” The old man let out a yelp when Dutch pulled his gun out too, pointing it at the homeless man, “I’m sorry! I’m real sorry- please don’t kill me! I’m just a useless old man! I’ve been squatting here all summer waiting for the law to kick me out again!!” He looked like he was ready to piss himself.

While Dutch kept his sights locked on the stranger, you went over to Arthur and started dusting off the dirt that had gotten on his back as he sat up from the floor. As he groaned and got to his feet, Arthur’s low voice asked, “What the hell is your name, you old bastard?”

“Don’t got one,” He stayed still in his spot on the stairs. You could see his hands shaking slightly, “They call me, Uncle,” What a strange man. He smelled like whiskey, his hair was on the verge of turning from a light brown to snowy white. He had to be in his 50s at least. He swallowed a lump in his throat and spoke a little softer, “You ain’t the new owners… are ya? C-cause if so y-you- you wouldn’t happen to… keep this from the law?” What a pathetic man.

When Arthur finally stood tall again he snarled out, “I ‘aught to fucking kill you for kicking me down the fucking stairs! Hell no, we ain’t the god damn owners!” He pointed his finger and shook it with each word. You’d never seen Arthur get so angry so fast. He spun away and walked away from Uncle and head towards the front door that was still ajar.

“I said I was sorry! You should know better than sneaking up on an old man-” You stared at Uncle with wide eyes trying to mentally tell him to shut the hell up before he said the wrong thing.

Arthur stopped on his snotty little march out the door and looked back at Uncle. There was a moment of silence where everyone stared up at the old man and he looked back at every one of you. Before he turned away again, Arthur shook his head and cursed under his breath while saying, “Dutch do something with this old bag of shit, you’re the businessman,” He left after that.

Dutch on the other hand ran his hand over his mustache a few times while walking directly into the foyer. Uncle had come down a few steps too, but he was still sure to stay clear of Dutch just like he did with Arthur. Funny, because Dutch was the one he should be the most afraid of, you thought to yourself.

“Well,” Dutch started, and took a long pause as he did this thing where he rubbed his chin then crossed his arms in front of his chest, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave Uh… Uncle. You see we might not be the new owners, but… ah… We need this house more than you do.”

Surprise oddly washed across his face, “You ain’t gonna kill me?” Uncle asked.

“Not yet,” Dutch retorted, “No, not yet.” 

“You’re just gonna… Kick me out? I was here first!”

“And I got a gun,” Dutch’s voice was smooth and low and calm. He stood in front of you now, while you looked around him and watched Uncle. Laughter twisted around in Dutch’s chest for a second, “Now get out,” He smiled.

Uncle stood there for a second or two while he took in this new reality that just slapped him, “Wh-.. what? You can’t do this to me!” He pleaded, “I… You’re doing me worse than death by sending me out there!” Out where? Outside the house? “Please! Mister! I’ll… I’ll pay! I’ll work! I got money! Please let me stay!”

Money changed the name of this game and Dutch was already bending the rules, “Money?” He tipped his head to the side slightly, “How much money?”

Uncle was frazzled enough already. He brought his hands up and shook them around as he spoke, “It’s in a safe!” he started, paused and licked his lips, “In the basement!” There was a basement?

But Dutch wasn’t as stupid as Uncle wanted to think he was, “Did you put the money in the safe?”

Uncle’s face dropped, “N-no… B-but… I found it! It’s mine!”

Dutch’s laugh came from a dark place, it was loud and sounded like a cackle, “It’s mine now!” His smile flashed on his face and he bent over as he laughed, “Woah! You are something special old man! Tell you what,” Dutch took a finger and ran it under his eye to clear away the single tear he gained, “You got till I come back with the rest of my friends then you gotta clear it from here, ya understand?” Dutch then turned on his heel and headed for the door. He didn’t even give Uncle the chance to say anything in reply because he yelled out, “Arthur! Get over here!”

Like the little lap dog he was, he came running over, “Yeah?” He stayed put on the steps of the front porch.

Dutch walked up to him and said, “You stay put here with, (Y/n), I’m gonna head back and gather up the ladies and bring them here. Make sure no one else finds their way back here alive,” As he walked past Arthur he clasped his shoulder and gave a firm squeeze. And that was it, Dutch mounted his stallion and was off into the forest and gone from sight.

You walked outside and met up with Arthur as he sat down on the front steps. You stood to the side of him and peered back into the house. Uncle was gone, but not really, he must have disappeared back inside. You felt bad for him. He clearly was alone in this world and didn’t have anyone else but himself. He seemed lonely, sad, and well… easy to pity. Maybe you should let him stay?

“It’s a nice house,” Arthur’s voice broke through your thoughts, “Two bedrooms downstairs,” he was staring at the overgrown path that led to the road and out of the forest, “Two bedrooms upstairs too.”

“Well that’s good,” You decided to sit down next to him, “It’s nice that there is some furniture too,” You noticed bits here and there when you were inside. There was a table with some chairs, a couple of couches, and the kitchen had a stove. There were fireplaces scattered around too. It was a really nice find for you guys.

The two of you chatted back and forth. You talked about the rooms you wanted, the warmth you’d have for winter, and how it sucked being nearly two hours away from Sugartown. Arthur made plans to explore the area, see if there were any closer towns or trading posts. As you talked, the sky grew darker and darker with thick grey clouds forming overhead while thunder echoed from far away. Every so often it’d get closer and the wind would get stronger. Soon enough the weather drove you and Arthur inside the house. You both decided to hide in there and wait it out until Dutch returned with the rest of your things and the others. 

As you stared out the window you watched the storm outside pick up as a mixture of rain and ice started to fall. It got incredibly cold within a matter of minutes. Arthur started a fire in the living room fireplace in the background of your thoughts while you focused on the chaos outside. The storm felt alive and you felt as if you were apart of it. It came without a sound then screamed when it finally got here. You knew there wasn’t a chance Dutch would be back tonight, so you got comfortable with the new house and waited out the weather.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

The winter came much faster than anyone expected. About two weeks later and the world turned into a snowy escape. There was always a thin sheet of snow covering everything while the sun slowly melted it away. Most days were clear and cold, but most nights were colder and filled with snowfall. 

While everyone made themselves at home, you took claim to one of the bedrooms on the first floor, Arthur took the other. Surprisingly, Dutch didn’t kick Uncle out after all, but he did kick him out of his room. The old man was left to sleep in the living room on the couch while Dutch and Annabelle took his room, and Susan took the other one upstairs. The sad part about all this was that Hosea had still not returned from Bessie’s Ranch. He visited, once, when you first got here, but you haven’t seen much of him since then.

Dutch had finally had enough of waiting around for Hosea and had left some time ago to go find him. You stayed behind because you enjoyed the warmth the house provided. However, this meant you had chores to do instead. Since Hosea wasn’t around to hunt, Susan had taken up the task, and every morning that she would come back with something, it was your job to cut and clean it. Today she brought back a small and sad looking turkey. She wasn’t the world’s best hunter, but she was all you had.

You sat at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and by the windows. You could peer out the icy glass and to the backyard. As you plucked feather after feather, you watched Arthur stand watch by the front doors of the barn, standing over a little fire with his hands close to the tips of the flames. Each time he breathed a little cloud fluttered away in the wind. In the background, you could hear Annabelle and Susan quietly chat about Dutch. You listened to bits and pieces of their words.

“He’s been gone a while now,” Annabelle muttered with a slight attitude, “It’s almost noon. How long does it take to get someone?”

Susan let out some sort of sigh or sneer, it sounded like both, “Girlie,” She started and you looked up to see her pointing a finger at Annabelle, “You need to focus on cutting those potatoes and less on Dutch. He’s fine.” No one knew that for sure but that’s just what was said anytime someone went missing these days. They're fine. They're missing but they are fine and dandy

“Do you think Hosea will come back?” Annabelle’s questions never seemed to end. She was a strong-willed woman and she fought Susan’s bitterness with an air of politeness. She really was such a kind-hearted woman with a spirit of gold.

Again, Susan let out a sound of annoyance and shrugged while shaking her head, “Who knows. He’s found a real lady with a lot of money. He might run east with her if he gets the chance.” There was no way Hosea would do that, you knew he’d never leave the gang.

“You think?” Annabelle picked up a small pile of chopped potatoes and poured them into a boiling pot of water on the kitchen’s old fashion stove, “He doesn’t seem like that kind of guy.”

“Ha!” Susan laughed, she hummed for a second then said, “You don’t know Hosea, then,” You made sure to listen in on her next words, curious to learn Susan’s true impression of the silver-tongued outlaw, “He’s a slimy, evil little goblin who chases after the high of getting rich. He wants money. Nothing else.”   
  
That didn’t sound like Hosea at all. The Hosea you knew was kind and gentle and silent. He was a powerful mastermind and a genius at tricking people to give him their money, but he wasn’t a… a gold digger. There was no way on earth he was. What about all the times he spent patiently teaching you to aim a gun? To walk quiet enough to sneak up on a rabbit? What about all the crime novels you’d read together every weekend and gush about? He wouldn’t just… leave… would he? Did the gang mean anything to him? It meant the world to Arthur, this was his home, it was the growing pride of Dutch’s fruits of labor. 

Suddenly the sound of footsteps outside on the front porch creaked out. You looked out the window and noticed Arthur wasn’t at the barn anymore. In a matter of seconds, Dutch was standing in the archway of the kitchen with an awful look on his face. Arthur was standing right behind him, peering into the room and sharing a glance with you.

“Well?” Susan asked, “Where is he?” 

Dutch shook his head and ventured into the kitchen. As he walked past you he placed a hand on your head and ruffled your hair. He took the seat at the other end of the table while Arthur took his spot in the archway. After what felt like hours, Dutch leaned back in his chair and placed his hands together on his chest, “He’s gone.” 

While Susan had a look of almost pride for calling it, Annabelle seemed shocked and so did Arthur, “What?” Annabelle left her potato cutting duty and stared in disbelief, “Where did he go?” 

You had also stopped plucking the turkey and left it abandoned on the table, “He’s gone? Like.. he ran away?” You asked slowly while trying to believe it, Hosea actually left? 

He waved his hand then shook his head, “I don’t know,” Dutch said, “I went there and the ranch was sold. I spoke to the new owners, some… real fat city folk from the east coast. Pigs,” He spit on the floor, had something gone down between them and Dutch? “Bessie was gone, her sisters sold the ranch and split. They said two daughters headed south to Texas, and the last daughter went west toward California. I’m guessing that was Hosea and Bessie,” Dutch paused as he sat up some more, straight and formal, his voice was low and carried an anger to it that you didn’t understand, “Said they left nearly a week ago,” Silence filled the room aside from the soft bubbles of the boiling pot of potatoes. Out of nowhere Dutch slammed his fist down into the table so hard that it scared the shit out of everyone, “A Goddamn week ago!” He shouted. 

No one spoke after that. You all stayed in your place while silently mourning over the loss of Hosea and the betrayal that he left behind. You glanced at everyone in the room.

Annabelle and Susan stood still and startled by Dutch’s outburst. Uncle had managed to peek his head into the kitchen from behind Arthur who had a confused expression on his face. It didn’t make sense… It just didn’t add up. Why would Hosea leave? Did he really not care about the gang and was he really just a money hungry monster?

Something told you it wasn’t that, it was something else, something Hosea never mentioned or talked about. But really everyone knew what it was… It was Bessie... And Hosea’s profound and obvious love for her


	10. Through and Through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been dead for a long time lol. Here is another chapter :) More coming soon.

This was it. You knew you had finally done it. The air was frigid, it made your skin turn a light shade of pink. Your fingers were ice cold even though you had two pairs of gloves on. It may have been near freezing but you were still sweating from running so much. Your heart raced, beating louder and louder like a drum in your ears.

Where was he? The tree you had taken cover behind wouldn’t last for long. You knew he was out there, waiting, ready to end it all. God dammit! Why did you always find yourself in these kinds of situations? Why were you so bad at being… bad? You sucked in a deep breath and took the biggest risk of your life.

Slowly and slower than time, you started to peek your head out from around the tree. Maybe he was still out? Or was he hiding still? As you neared the side of the tree and peered around the corner, you had zero time to react. What god damn mistake you made.

A snowball collided with your side of your face, adding to the collection of welts to your body that now tallied to six. Arthur was standing in the backyard of your hidden home, bending over laughing.

“Haha!! Got you again!!” You watched him slap his leg and nearly shit himself laughing.

You cleaned the snow away from your face and hair and took this as a chance to wad up a snowball of your own. Packing the snow tight together between your hands, you curled your arm back and snapped it forward. The snowball flew through the air right towards Arthur’s shoulder. When he was struck by the snowball he looked back up with a fire in his eyes that told you to run again.

A scream echoed out into the snowy forest as you ran for the barn this time. Arthur was hot on your tail and you could hear him calling out to you.

“You started this war!” He laughed, “Surrender or die!”

You got to the front doors of the barn and fumbled to push them open, “Eat my shit!!” It was too late, as you looked over your shoulder you were pelted with another snowball, this time on your upper leg.

Sometimes he could be such an asshole. You let out a yelp and frowned at Arthur, “This isn’t fun anymore! You’re just trying to hurt me now!” It was all fun and games in the beginning, but somehow it really did turn into a snowball war and Arthur was winning. He was only so good because he was older and had wicked good eye sight. You still struggled with shooting and aiming a gun, so how on earth could you throw a snowball?

Despite the war, it was nice to finally get out of the house again. A long storm had raged through the deeper parts of Paradise Valley. And Dutch said the winter’s here were mild. You’ve spent nearly all of it inside that house, listening to Uncle’s drunk stories about his golden years. The spring was only a few weeks away now, and Hosea had still not returned.

Nothing special happened this winter, thankfully. Though, when the Christmas time came around there was a nice humble morning were everyone woke up together and had a real and meaningful breakfast. You spent a lot of that time reading the medical books you had gotten from the doctor in town. One was on plants and how to make them in to medicine, you already knew a lot about that thanks to your mother. Another one was about tending to all type of open wounds and injuries. You had started practicing how to stitch with a needle and thread that Susan had lent you. Stitching a person and a blanket wasn’t that different. You had mastered the baseball stitch and the lock stitch but you still had a few others to get.

Now you stood facing death on the first day out in months. Arthur was an evil man, or just a bastard, perhaps both. You looked at him, glaring, daring him to throw another snowball, “Hit me again and see what happens!” You challenged him for the first time since this war started.

“Yeah? What’s a tiny little thing like you gonna do?” Arthur’s cocky grin ate away at you.

With a huff and a pout, you decided to really turn the tables. You locked eyes with Arthur and started to get the waterworks going. You let out a fake sob and wailed, “DUTCH!!!” And ran past Arthur before he could slap a hand on your mouth and save his own skin.

He cursed under his breath and dropped the snowball in his hand, “Shit- (Y/n)! I didn’t mean it! Come on it was a game!!” It stopped being a game when he started being an asshole.

You ran inside from the backdoor and through the kitchen, Arthur was close behind you when you got to the living room, “Dutch!” You yelled out to the old man sitting on the couch, reading away. Your loud yell startled him and he dropped his book right before you hid behind him with a small cry, “Arthur’s throwing snowballs at me! He won’t stop! He hit me in the face! Look!”

There was no way of stopping the bomb you had just set off. Dutch didn’t say a word as he gentle grabbed you by the chin and turn your head to look at the goose egg that was forming. You let out another cry, “He got me other places too,” You whined.

Arthur stood frozen in the entrance to the living room. You watched as a part of his soul floated away and into the heavens. Normally when Arthur was being a dick, you just ignored him. But sometimes he took it too far, like today, and you needed to unleash the wrath of Mother Dutch onto him.

Dutch snapped his gaze to the young outlaw and said, “What the hell is wrong with you? Huh? Throwing snowballs at a little girl?” You weren’t that little, not really.

You watched Arthur start to glare and his mouth hanging open, “She!” He pointed a finger at you, “She started it! She threw one at me!”

“And surely you are the dumb ass to throw one back,” Dutch got up from his spot on the couch while picking his book up off the floor. As he passed Arthur he smacked him on the head with his book and said, “Stop it. Get your ass back outside and keep watch,” Dutch suddenly snapped to you, “And you,” His glare softened but it was still there, “Stop bothering him.” He left after that and headed upstairs to find a new peaceful reading space.

The two of you were left alone again and all the hostility from before had started to melt away. You had won the last battle and you took your victory with pride. However, at the same time, you wanted to get the hell out of the house before Susan or Annabelle started asking you to do chores. So it was time for a new game.

You bolted. You broke out into a sprint and as you ran past Arthur you slapped a hand onto his arm and yelled out, “Tag!” And ran for the door.

He took the bait. He always took the bait. For a grumpy teenage outlaw, he sure loved playing games with you. He’d be turning 17 soon, and you knew sooner or later Arthur would join The Adults and leave you and your games behind. So you tried to enjoy them while you could. He was your best friend and you wanted to keep it that way forever.

As you ran out of the house you made your way back to the barn. Hidden inside was Callus and the rest of the horses. You had about ten seconds to mount up and run. It took you fifteen seconds just to get inside. Arthur was right behind you and you felt him smack your arm as he ran past you going deeper within the barn. He got on his horse quicker than you and fled the barn. His laughter filled the air as you scurried after him.

You busted out of the barn and saw the Arthur in the distance as he fled the forest. You chased after him on Callus. Snow fled into the air as you rushed your mustang to catch up with Arthur. Somehow tag turned into a race. When you got close enough to Arthur you laughed out and said, “Last one to Bottom’s Bridge has to do the other’s chores for a week!” Just as you said that you made it to the main road. You took a sharp right turn and took the lead as a confused Arthur had to process what you said.

It didn’t take long for him to understand and chase after you. The two of you race nearly side by side on the road. Eventually, the thick forest turned into an open valley. Cold air whipped past you, burning your cheeks and tangling your hair in the wind. For the first time in months, you felt free and alive. Something about riding a horse on the open snowy plains made you feel this sense of wonder that you thought you’d never feel again. Laughter bubbled from your lungs and filled the chilly air. The morning sun had nearly made it halfway up into the perfectly clear sky. Not a single cloud was out.

You looked over and you could see Arthur riding along beside you. He had a grin larger than life on his face. His own laughter echoed into the valley air. You shared a glance with him, your eyes locked and in just second Arthur had sped off ahead of you. His hair fluttered effortlessly in the cold wind and you could just make out the trail of clouds that escaped his lungs as he breathed.

That bastard wasn’t going to win, you wouldn’t stand for it. You spurred Callus on and snapped your reins, You let out a quiet breathy whisper, “Come on!” You begged your stallion, “Come on boy!” You kept your eyes locked on Arthur as you followed hot on his tail. He looked over his shoulder and cackled and hollered.

“Can’t catch up can ya, kid?!” The idiot wasn’t paying attention to where he was going.

In the distance, you could see the valley’s end. A frozen river flew and squirmed through the valley until it reached the end of a cliff. Bottom’s Bridge swept across the Paradise Falls where the river flowed down into a deep gorge.

Arthur’s horse grew spooked by the wall of steam and misty the flew in the sky as he ran towards the river’s bridge to cross it. The horse nearly bucked and kicked him off but you and Callus dashed past him and into cold icy clouds. The sun shimmered and little rainbows cast off each misty drop that escaped the edge of the falls. As you past Arthur you grinned at him, amazed and delighted to see his surprised face.

You pulled on the reins just as you heard the sound of wood clonk under Callus’s hooves. You made it to the bridge, a big cheeky grin smeared on your face, “I won!” You look over your shoulder at Arthur who had just made it there and threw the wall of mist, “I beat you!”

“Ah! So what!” He waved a hand at you, clearly trying to play it off, “I ain’t doing your chores no matter how many times you win!”

“Fine!” You huffed but you had a small smile. You pulled at the reins in your hands and spurred Callus towards the bridge, “Buy me something in town then!”

Arthur didn’t argue, you were already half way to town anyways. Besides, he could buy some much needed personal supplies. He could check the post office too for Dutch while he was at it. You waited for him to reach your side and the two of your set off together, side by side once again, at a slow and casual pace.

The winter world was slowly melting away and it was quite beautiful to watch. You would stare at the colorful birds as they flew from branch to branch. Blue Jays bounced around and sang as they raced the Cardinals to the barren treetops. You much preferred to watch the crows though, they would stare back at you with dark little eyes that told ancient stories you could never understand. The crows would hop around and watch you and Arthur ride through the thin forest, then suddenly dozens of them took to the skies.

Spring was coming very soon and you loved watching the world come back to life. The ride was silent for the most part, but you enjoyed the silence while a glance at Arthur every now and then just to make sure he wouldn’t pull any tricks or stunts. It wasn’t long until you made it the near hour and a half journey into Sugartown. It had been weeks since you saw the bleak little town. The dark winter trapped you in the house and it was refreshing to see other people some kind of civilization. You had little clothes to keep you warm, which was the biggest reason you stayed indoors. The second reason was that you had taken advantage of the basement in the house and used to practice your herb use as well.

At least it was warm enough now for your crappy jacket and several layers of shirts. You and Arthur hitched your horses outside the post office at every edge of town. As he stomped down into the muddy snow he groaned out and complained, “Ahh- I’m gonna check for any mail,” He sniffled his nose, you could see it was bright red and runny. He swiped his sleeve under his nose then walked past you, “Don’t get lost, kay? I’ll be back out and buy you whatever you want in a few seconds.”

You didn’t say much, you just nodded your head and made yourself comfortable against the wall near the front door. Arthur headed inside and you took to your least favorite pass time, people watching. First, you saw a busy priest dash down the road from his cute little church and right into some unknown building that didn’t have any signs on it. Then you saw a cozy fat little woman walking with her son, they headed down the main drag of town and went into the doctor’s office. You felt a shutter and shiver go down your spine and you knew it wasn’t from the cold. That town doctor… whatever his name was, you couldn’t remember if he told you or not. He didn’t give you a good feeling. He knew your family, and at this point, there was no way he didn’t know you.

The last time you saw him, it scared you a little bit, and at the same time, it bothered you. Would he go to the law and expose Dutch and the gang for technically kidnapping you? It wasn’t like that at all, but what adult lawmen would listen to a 13-year-old girl explain that she willingly went with them? So many people wanted Dutch’s head, they’d take any excuse they could to book him in a jail cell for good. The face of an evil child kidnapper was exactly what they wanted to paint him as. You and everyone else who knew Dutch knew he was more of a chaotic lover than anything else. He didn’t want to harm people, and a lot of his fortune was spent on others, even strangers. If people pushed him though, he’d kill and he’d do it with no mercy.

You shook those thoughts from your head then wondered what was taking Arthur so long. He’d been gone for almost ten minutes. You ventured into the dark and dim post office and waited as your eyes adjusted to the light. After a second of blinking blindly, you found Arthur at the mail window.

It took only a second for you to glare and roll your eyes before walking over to him. He was standing broad and wide, leaning forward on the mail window’s counter as he flirted with the young teenage teller who worked here. Arthur talked low and made the young girl laugh and giggle behind her hand.

You couldn’t blame him, she was very pretty. She had a clean smile and rosy cheeks that gave away her wild blush. Her hair was dark black with wild curls that frizzed out in every direction. She dressed very casual and proper in a creamy white dress that had cute little black ribbons in it. You made your way to the window and crossed your arms and stomped a food hard down onto the floorboards.

Arthur snapped from his flirty eyed daze and you saw his face go from that gross thirsty look into one of anger and irritation. The young woman, however, seemed amused. She laughed like an airhead and peered over the counter to look down at you.

“Hello, little girl,” She greeted you, but you ignored her and glared back at Arthur.

You pointed a finger at him and took three steps closer till you jabbed your finger into his stomach, “You said a few seconds! You’re a dirty filthy liar.”

“It’s only been a few minutes,” Arthur retorted and shrugged like he didn't care, “Go wait outside, kid,” He tried to shoo you away but you smacked his hand.

The poor innocent girl made a terrible mistake. She was confused and asked, “Is she your little sister?” Something about that question made you angry.

“No!” You suddenly turned your glare on the innocent girl and tried to smile, “He’s a terrible person, trust me, your father would never let you marry him.” This girl stared back at you with a blank gaze, it made you think she was more stupid than the average person.

Before Arthur could beat you and before the girl could gasp in shock, you slapped your hand on the mail Arthur failed to take. You looked at him, ready to fight toe to toe, “Can we go now?”

As much as Arthur wanted to wring your neck, he didn’t and he just huffed a big sigh and grabbed you by your arm as he dragged you out of the post office. You yanked your arm away from him once got outside and gave the mail back to Arthur. He tucked it away into his satchel and followed you.

“Why you always gotta do that?” Arthur barked down at you, he walked beside you as you ran down the steps and deeper into town.

“Do what?” You asked like you had no idea what he was talking about.

Arthur scoffed then slacked your shoulder with the back of his hand, “Be a little rude shit to all the girls I talk to?” You couldn’t deny that anytime you caught Arthur flirting with some stranger you’d get angry, but you did because it disgusted you and he always chooses to take his perverted interests at the most inconvenient times.

“Because it annoys you,” You smirked up at him and then mockingly said, “Because I’m your annoying little sister,” You smacked him back, right in the gut, then hurried off to avoid getting smacked twice as harder.

You fled into the general store, your goal all along, a ran towards the back of the store were the kept all the candy you could dream of in tiny little barrels. This was the prize you wanted for winning your race. Arthur may have forgotten all about it, but you didn’t. He came bursting through the door looking like an idiot. The store clerk gave him a glare and muttered something under his breath.

Arthur joined you in the back of the store, slightly winded and breathing heavily. He didn’t even say a word and picked up a bag and started doing the same as you. You both filled the red paper bags to the brim with sweet treats. You loved chocolate the most and got the sweet little round chocolate truffles. Arthur collected carnal and butterscotch like some old man.

“I should get two bags because I won the race,” You said casually.

Arthur grunted, which was his only reply. He didn’t say no, so you handed him your first bag and filled a second one. You filled that one with one of every candy, then a few extras of your favorites. Arthur took all three bags and handed them over to the overly grumpy store clerk. He weighed them out then tied them closed with little twisty ties. Arthur paid for each one in his silent monotone autopilot mode, mumbling thanks, then tossed you both of your bags.

You left the store, tearing open one bag and digging into the candies, and followed Arthur through town once more. You walked side by side down the wood plank sidewalks. You tossed a little chocolate truffle into your mouth and sighed in glee at the sweet and precious candy as it melted away in your mouth.

“Thanks for the candy, Arthur,” You beamed up to your unruly friend.

He seemed to have gotten over all the trouble you caused him today, and was content with plucking away at the sweet little caramel treats he got himself, “Don’t mention it,”  
Despite all the irritation, you caused each other, you really did care about Arthur like he was a brother. He was family, and as much as you pestered and annoyed the shit out of him sometimes, he’d never want to see or do you any harm. The two of you enjoyed each other company and found a bench to sit on under the cover of a stores front porch. You silently sat together, eating away at candy, until Arthur realized the whole reason you even came to town.

“The mail!” He said out of nowhere, nearly giving you a heart attack, “I almost forgot!” He set his bag of candy down between the town of you and dug into his satchel, “Look, (Y/n),” Arthur handed you a small and warn envelope.

You clasped it tight with cold fingers and squinted down at the words. It was addressed to a Francis Marwick. That was another pen name set up between the gang. Suddenly it hit you and you snapped your gaze back to Arthur, gasping out, “It’s from Hosea!”

Arthur swiped the letter and tucked it away. Before you could protest and ask to read it, he firmly said, “Dutch has got to see it first,” he shook his head at you.  
You sprung up from your seat quickly and grabbed him by his arm, “Then we better get back!”

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He was coming back. Hosea had written a lengthy letter that took to long to finally get to Dutch. When Arthur gave Dutch the letter, he was almost at a loss of words. A letter and it was from Hosea? You thought Dutch would be angry, at first, but he was just surprised. It took him a while to get through the whole thing, but you watch Dutch’s face change and listened to him read bits of the letter out loud.

The story goes like this; Bessie’s father had died and her two sisters sold the ranch and ran off with whatever money they could make. She followed one of her sisters to California after finding out they tricked her, and lied about going to Texas. Hosea comes in because he promised to help Bessie get the money for her ranch back. Months had passed and they made no luck finding her sister… but… They did get married. Hosea pleaded that he would have been back sooner, and with as much money as he could bring but they were cheated out of an inheritance and robbed of everything they owned. They got stuck in California though, waiting to make enough money to head home.

Hosea wrote that he would have never of let this happen and that he would hopefully be home once the spring had settled in. As for Susan’s declaration that he was a money hungry gold digger, that seemed false because he didn’t gain a single penny from marrying Bessie, instead he gained the love his life, or so that’s how he described it.

Now you had to wait. You made yourself useful around camp and started talking up hunting as your preferred chore. For some reason, you wanted to impress Hosea when he got back home. You still studied hard away at making medicines in the basement. You were not very good at it, but you knew it’d take time and practice. You practiced your stitching as well, every day you would take some leather from a previous hunt and stitch them together as if they were skin in need medical attention. You had started studying from a book on veins and arteries as well.

When you weren’t busy studying or doing chores, you’d spend your free time with Arthur. Dutch was to busy looking for a new campsite or wooing Annabelle to be bothered right now. Susan enjoyed your company in the morning when you did chores with her, but she preferred to spend her evenings in town or alone. And no one wanted to hang around Uncle to long or he’d talk your ear right off.

The snow soon melted away entirely, and days turned into weeks, and the forest started to bloom to life. With the good weather, Dutch took to moving camp closer to town. You packed up your things and wished the house a very welcomed goodbye. You hated living there, crammed into such a small space with so many people. Perhaps it wasn’t that bad that Hosea wasn’t there for the house, there surely wasn’t any room for him or Bessie.

As you left the house behind, you wondered how Hosea would know where to find your new camp. Arthur left a note behind, written in code in case anyone other than Hosea was to find it. Your new camp was a million times better, thank God. Although the weather was still a little chilly, the days grew warm and you found a new camp west of Sugartown, and east of a new town called Blue Rock, it was a coal mining town and full of prospects and outlaws. It was a place Dutch wanted to call home but Annabelle managed to argue with him into choosing a shady lakeside camp equally between the two towns.

You were glad she did, because, on your first visit to Blue Rock, you felt unwanted and scared. It was a town filled with mostly men, prostitutes, miners, and all sorts of criminals. They all stared at you like you were a freak. There were houses that the miners lived in, saloons, train stations for the coal that was mined, and several brothels.  
There was no church, no sheriff’s office, no bank, and no doctor. It was truly lawless, dark, dank, and dangerous. You never went back after that. Anytime Arthur or Dutch went to town, you had to always ask which one now.

It wasn’t until it was a cold and misty morning where you found yourself cast far out from camp. You were sitting on a rock down the beach of camp as you worked at carving your initials into the stone with your hunting knife. Someone was walking across the stony beach, you could hear them step over all the smooth little pebbles. They made their way towards you and as you looked over your shoulder you threw your knife to the ground and leap from the top of the large boulder you perched yourself on.

Hosea had come home, and he stood in front of you with his arms held wide open. He was tanner than usual and his hair had grown out some. You let out some strange laugh mixed with a cry as you ran towards him and threw yourself into his arms, “You’re back!” It had been months since you last saw him.

You never realized until he was gone just how much you missed Hosea. He laughed and let out a grunt as you threw yourself at him, but he smiled and jokingly said, “Of course I am! Where else would I go?” You missed him so much. Life wasn’t the same without him, you had no one to go hunting with, which you’ve grown to deeply enjoy the hunt and providing for the gang since Hosea’s absence. There was less joy in camp without him as well, everyone missed him. There was also little profit coming in without the master conman at work. Dutch was little to nothing without his right-hand man.

“I never thought you’d come back. You just left without saying anything…” You let out a little cry, but it was free of any tears. You buried your face into Hosea’s chest and listened to him softly laugh. It was comforting to hear him again.

“I would never leave you behind, I always had intentions of coming back,” Hosea held you close, hugging you, then pulling away, “How could I leave you and Arthur with Dutch for too long? He’d get you guys killed eventually,” He said those words so seriously, you thought he was joking but he didn’t laugh and neither did you.

Hosea stood tall and held onto your hand as you walked down the beach towards camp together. You told him all about how awful the winter was and how much Arthur liked to pick on you.

When you started to ask him about his time away, he’d brush it off and answer your question with another question. He didn’t seem to want to talk about what happened when he was gone or why he left at all. He came back to a married man, however, and Bessie was back in camp waiting for him. The two had drastically changed in character. The last time you saw them together they were very friendly towards each other, now they were very openly affectionate, going as far to call each other very cheese pet names. It almost grossed you out.

The first night Hosea and Bessie were back, everyone partied. Even you did a little. You really just enjoyed having Hosea back, even Bessie too. It had made you reflect on the past year and a half. So much of your life changed. You lost your parents but gained several new ones. You had gone through a series of depressive episodes, but you were learning to cope with your grief and sorrow of your family and life. You’d be turning 14 this year, though your birthday was still many months away. As you sat around the large fire pit with everyone, listening to Hosea and Bessie retell parts of their journey home, you felt whole for the first time in what felt like months.

It was if Hosea’s homecoming that enlightened your soul or sparked some kind of hope in you. You looked forward to the next day, and the months to come, excited to see where Dutch and Hosea would take you next. The dark winter was finally over and you could live in the sun again, you hoped, and almost prayed that you’d be heading to the desert again. You could feel it in deep within you, good things were about to happen.


	11. Before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:D Here is the next chapter!! Things are about to get crazy!!!!!!! Let me know what you guys think will happen next? Will reader open the letter? Will she give it to Dutch? What does her grandfather want!?!?!? Find out in the next chapter, coming soon!!

The summer was perfect. It was warm, it was breezy, it rained little to none. Since Hosea’s return, the gang and life seemed to revert back to normal. Dutch and Hosea were back to running out of the camp every morning, with Arthur joining on occasion, and coming back with whatever money they could make by the evening.

Bessie, Susan, and Annabelle worked tirelessly to keep the camp organized, stocked, and cooked every meal. Everyone had chores. Everyone had to do their part for the gang, even Uncle who cared for the horses, and you finally started to contribute on a regular basis too. 

At the beginning of summer, when Hosea came back, you begged him to take you hunting every morning. He seemed happy enough to take you out and he enjoyed the company. You started hunting close to camp, you stayed in the area and took from the closest resources. You had only known how to use a handgun at first, and you never got anything larger than a small and underfed turkey that was about the size of a chicken. Squirrels and rabbits were the only other things on your list animals you’ve killed.

You could remember that first summer you spent with Arthur and Hosea in the open desert. You remembered how awful it felt to take the life of another living thing. Now with another summer coming at hand, you were barely fazed by the bang of your pistol or the little cries of death that escaped an animal when you killed it.

Somewhere in the middle of summer, after several weeks of hunting with Hosea, you started hunting alone and straying further and further into unknown country sides and forests. Hosea had given you a long yet still small cattlemen repeater. It was perfect for your short size. You had upgraded from killing small animals to medium ones than to large ones very quickly. You spent a lot of time in the forest, not just hunting, but also collecting herbs and wild fruits and vegetables that grew in the area. And so the gang had started to depend on your for food. 

There was one day, just a few weeks ago, where you slept in and forgot to go hunting. Dinner that night was sad and pathetic and everyone ate canned food around a fire. Miserable and tried, with a side of attitude at the lack of a good meal, not many people stayed up that night and complained quite a bit. You knew then that you were no longer a child. 

Your 14th birthday was only a handful of months away and as you grew older you started to notice not only your role in camp changing but your also your body and feelings.

You were becoming more moody and quick to anger. You were stronger than ever before. You took down a doe for the first time this summer. Lifting up that doe was like lifting up a bag of paper, you tossed it onto Callus’s rear end and tied it down with ease. You had grown taller too, it was easier to climb onto Callus and Arthur didn’t seem like a giant anymore.

Speaking of Arthur, he took great pleasure in pushing your buttons and teasing you relentlessly, though he always made up for it when he went overboard. 

Today, however, you wanted to yell at him for stealing your boots. You knew it was him, you left them in a pile under your bed, and this wasn’t the first time Arthur has hidden your things. 

You stomped through the camp, barefoot and sour-faced. You found Dutch and Hosea sitting at a table looking over a large map and many papers. You hurried over there and stole their attention, “Where is Arthur!?” You asked with harshly knitted brows. 

They shared a look then laughed, “Stole your boots again, huh?” Dutch asked with a sympathetic look. He glanced down at your feet then held back a petty laugh.

“Why does he do this?” You wined while throwing your arms dramatically, “Why do you let him!?” You then pointed a finger at the two older men.

“You’ve got to learn to fight your own battles, girl,” Hosea gave you a pat on the head, “I think I saw him running around with that old dusty guitar down the beach,” Guitar?

When did anyone ever have one of those and where did they hide it? 

You left the old men to their battle plans and headed for the stone and pebbled covered beach. Your heart sank in your chest and you grew cold. How on earth could you make it across the beach without your boots? You took one step and felt the pain of a pebble dig into your foot. There was no other option though. You had to do this.

Each step opened a new gate of hell on to you. You thought over time you’d just get used to the pain but it never got better. You gazed down the beach and looked around for Arthur. As far as you could see he wasn’t anywhere around. But then you heard something. Soft and out of tune strings of music drifted to your ears. It didn’t take long to find him then. Arthur was hidden further down the beach where it turned into massive rocks stuck and cluttered together. He was well hidden behind boulders bigger than a house, on a little hidden sandy beach.

You wanted to tackle him and demand your shoes but your curiosity was greater than your rage. He didn’t seem to notice you were there either. You took great pleasure in sneaking around the boulder he leaned on and jump out from behind it, letting out a loud and terrible scream.

Arthur jerk away and the guitar in his hands lunched from his lap and several feet away, he screamed just as loud until he realized it was just you. 

“God! Dammit!” He glared at you while you started laughing in fits of giggles that bubbled from your chest.

“That’s what you get for stealing my boots!” You retorted quickly, “I got you good,” The soft sandy beach melted away the pain from the stones and you didn’t seem so mad about your boots anymore. Though you still wanted to find them, “Where’d you throw them this time?” You asked as you picked up the guitar.

“Uncle’s got ‘em,” He replied casually as you handed him the instrument. 

You sat down on a rock in the middle of the little beach and let out a groan, “Uh! Why?! Why did you do this to me!?” You knew you’d have to trade something with the old man to get them back, and he’d probably ask for whiskey. 

Arthur got comfortable against the rock and just shrugged as he tried to play the guitar again. He wasn’t that good, “Don’t put frog eggs in my boots,” Huh… you did do that, didn’t you? 

The memory came through suddenly and you remembered how you filled Arthur’s boots with swamp water and frog eggs for stealing the last of your candy stash. You shook the memory away and declared that you were even. 

“What’s with that?” You pointed to the guitar Arthur was having trouble with.

He shrugged again, “It’s Susan, can you believe?” He dodged your question like a pro.

So you asked more clearly, “Why are you playing it?”

Arthur didn’t say anything for a few minutes and he sat there almost frozen. You watched him look at the ground, his eyes dashing around before he glanced at you then shrugged yet again. What was with all the god damn shrugged?

“Girls like guys who can play guitars,” He finally said. 

Excuse you? You looked at him, squinting your eyes then tipped your head slightly, “What? No they don’t.”

He shook his head and gave you this bug eyed look, “Yeah they do,” He sounded so serious, like he was a professional on this topic, “They love this shit.”

“Pft!” You let out a winded laugh, “And you think this is gonna make them like you?” You rolled your eyes then crossed your arms, “You really don’t know a thing, do you?

Can you even play it?”

You put Arthur on the spot again and he didn’t say anything for a while. He mumbled something under his breath that you didn’t hear, “Huh?” You called out like an old deaf woman, “I can’t hear you!”

“No!” Arthur barked back, “Well!” He paused and looked around while fumbling on his words, “Not really! I can a little bit… I just…I don’t know any songs…”   
Something about all that made you laugh harder than you ever have before. Your brought your legs up and crossed them under you while your hands held tight onto your feet, “The virgin boy is trying to seduce women with an instrument he doesn’t know how to use!” You laughed and laughed, rocking back and forth on top of your rock. Just because you were 13 didn’t mean you knew how the bees and birds worked. That was another change you noticed in yourself, you were becoming more vulgar.

Arthur’s face burned bright red and he grabbed a stray little rock in his hand and got ready to whip it at you but he knew better than that. He just scared you instead and threw it inches past your head and into the lake at your back, “Shut up!” He was really mad… or embarrassed… or both. 

If you were older you might feel some kind of pity or maybe sympathy for him. But you stopped laughing at him and decided to be nice, “I know a song you can play,” Arthur looked at you with a raised brow, “My mother use to sing this to my father all the time, maybe you can find a girl that likes listening to it?” You said and he gave you another odd look, “Can you play this tune?” You started to hum and sing out a few notes while setting a tempo by lightly tapping your hand onto your knee.

He watched you then fumbled around to try and play by ear. It was a simple tune so it was easy but he still wasn’t the best and it took him several times to get it right. You felt a warm and lifting feeling grow in your chest at the sound of just hearing that tune again, and you hadn’t even got to the song. In your head you could hear the sound of your mother’s voice singing along to the music as your father would play on the few instruments you had in your home. It was something your parents loved doing together, they loved singing for some reason. Your home was always full of songs and music and dancing. 

You were glad that you could look back on this memory and feel pride and love and nostalgia instead of pain and depression. When Arthur had played the tune enough times you took in a deep long breath then tried your best to sound good.

_“Oh, darling, if I take your hand_   
_Will we travel far out West, far across the land!_   
_Cuz anywhere is home with you,_   
_I'll keep on going til the air is new,”_

A smile had climbed onto your face as you remembered the words to the song. It was uplifting and quick, joyful and fast paced. You wanted to dance, but you stayed put on your rock and choose to sway back and forth little by little.

_“It's the land and trees I desire!_   
_Smoke leaks from your mouth, cuz your heart is on fire!_   
_But your travelling song is not like mine,_   
_Our paths are different but we'll meet up in time,”_

As you sang to the song it was easy for Arthur to keep up, this guitar thing wasn’t as hard as he first thought it was. And the song you choose was sweet and heart felt, it was perfect. There had been the girl in the post office that had his attention. Her name was Heather and she was sweet enough to give you a sugar rush. You had an awful first meeting with her, but the more and more Arthur kept hanging around this poor girl the nicer you grew and put up with her.

_“Cuz I'm a weary traveller, you're an aimless wanderer,_   
_I'm cautious and I'm wary, you're reckless and you're fairly,_   
_Impulsive and unruly, we're bound to meet up surely in due time._   
_Our stories are forever entwined._   
_My babe's got green-brown eyes._   
_But who can keep track, cuz they're changing all the time_   
_My eyes are as blue as the sea_   
_We'll keep on running 'til we're as far as can be,"_

You had this memory in your mind as you felt the words leave your lungs, you could see your mother and father sitting together on the front porch of your home as you sat between them. The three of you sang this song and you could see the love between your parents as if the song was theirs and held a different meaning you just couldn’t quiet understand. Arthur started to mumble along to the words as you sang the chores again.

_“As you head down south I'll go east,_   
_We'll follow our hearts cuz we're both at peace!_   
_But I know it's not our fate,_   
_To suffer through a good old fashioned heartbreak!_   
_Cuz I'm a weary traveller! You're an aimless wanderer!_   
_I'm cautious and I'm wary! You're reckless and you're fairly!_   
_Impulsive and unruly! We're bound to meet up surely in due time!_   
_Our stories are forever entwined!”_

Smiles spread across yours and Arthur’s faces as the song came to an end and he stopped playing the songs melody. A moment passed there where you both stayed there and shared small chuckles. The warmth of the summer blew past you in the wind and you felt freedom trail off you and into the breeze.   
Arthur set the guitar aside and leaned as far back as he could against the rock, “You said your ma use to sing that song?” He asked.  
You slid off the rock and paced your way over to the abandoned guitar. You sat in a little grassy patch about a foot away from Arthur and nodded your head. You ran a finger over each string, “Yeah, she loved singing,” 

“So did mine,” Arthur was staring up at the white cotton clouds as the drifted on by, “I don’t remember what she use to sing, or what her voice sounded like,” He paused then narrowed his gaze slightly, “But I know she had a beautiful voice, she had the most beautiful voice in the world. I don’t have to remember what she sounded like to know that. I could remember thinking it all the time as a kid how her voice was my favorite thing to hear.”

At that moment you could see a new and fresh pain scatter across Arthur’s face. The pain he felt was raw and hurt in a way it never hurt before. Something in him broke, and he could feel the child inside him cry out. He sat there, upset and stuck in his own head with a sour look on his face until your voice broke him from his own chains. 

You weren’t sure what to say or do, “We should head back to camp,” You wanted to get him out of here though and get his mind on something else, “Dutch will probably have something for you to do by now,” 

He didn’t say anything. Arthur silently stood up and waited for you to join him at the edge of the little hidden beach. You followed him then stopped in your tracks. The pebble battlefield stared back at you and fear wriggled into your spine, “Arthur-” You reached out and grabbed him by his wrist before he could walk away. He stopped and stared down at out without a word, “Carry me,” You didn’t look at him, you kept your eyes on the beach.

When your grip on his wrist grew tight enough for him to get annoyed, he yanked himself free from your hand, “Fine,” He sounded much more depressed than he looked.

Arthur got down onto one knee and nodded his head, “Get on.” 

A silly smile slapped your face and you threw the guitar around your shoulder as the strap held it in place behind you. You threw yourself onto Arthur’s back and wrapped your arms around his neck as he locked your legs in his arms. He got up with ease as if your added weight meant nothing. Either you were lighter than you thought or he was getting stronger than he looked. Regardless, you felt a giggled swell in your belly and you laughed out as Arthur gave you a piggyback ride to camp. Perhaps your laughter was contagious, or maybe hearing your laugh made him feel better, but Arthur’s own low chuckle mingled with your chirping giggles. 

“You should give me piggyback rides more often!” You held tight onto him and enjoyed watching the pebbles passing under you. 

“No way!” He shook his head once then did his best to look back at you, “I’m only doing this cause you gave me that song to use. I’m gonna need you to write that down by th-” Arthur’s words got cut off as you started to strangle him with your arms, tightening around his neck.

You had a snotty little look of pure evil as you loosened your grip after he stopped walking, “At least say please,” You said as he caught his breath and dry heaved a few times. And how nice of him, he didn’t even drop you, there was still a lot of beach to cover. 

Instead, he hiked you up higher on his back and carried on. He even muttered out a, “Please… can you write that down?” Then cleared his throat to cover the fact that his voice sounded like shattered glass.

“Sure, after you get my boots for me,” Confronting Uncle was the last thing you wanted to do. He would annoy the ever life out of you.

“Nah,” Arthur drawled, “You can take care of that yourself,”

“What?!” You were ready to ring his neck again, “At least…. Help me!” Arthur shook his head slightly as he cleared the last stretch of the pebble beach. You expected him to drop you like a sack of potatoes but he carried on and towards camp.

“Nope,” Arthur’s voice had some hidden tone to it. You could hear the snicker building up in his chest.

Suddenly you didn’t want to be piggybacking on Arthur anymore. You started to squirm and wrestle free but Arthur flexed his arms and trapped your legs. He started to run and you were forced to hold on. He rushed into camp, nearly knocking down Susan who barked out a rude comment about being careful.

“Arthur!” You yelled in his ear, “Let me down!” He ignored your command. As he raced past the heart of camp Annabelle and Dutch stared with crooked and confused smiles. It’s safe to say, you were a little scared. What the hell was he doing? With a sudden stop, Arthur halted, slamming his heels into the ground. He spun so fast as he let go of your legs that you were freed from his grip, only to collide with an unnatural amount of hay. 

That bastard!! You fell into the hay abyss to never be seen again. Your world was sharp and painful straw used to feed and warm the horses. You clawed yourself free and swatted away the loose ends of hay. When you jumped out of the pile you were ready to claw Arthur to death. It would take hours to get all the hay out of your hair!! But when your bare feet landed onto the hard dirt, he wasn’t there. He was gone yet again.

You wanted to run around and find him and get payback, but Hosea had spotted you and had made his way over with Bessie close behind. You were surprised to see your boots in her hands.

As she handed you your torn raggedy boots, she softly said, “The trouble I had to go through to get these,” You had an idea. Uncle must have talked her ear off by the looks of it. You thanked her and quickly put your boots on. 

Hosea spoke up and flashed a crooked smile down to you, “We have to run into town,” He started, “Why don’t you come with us?”

Something smelled fishy, and it wasn’t the lakeshore only feet away. You lifted a brow, “Why?” 

His features quickly went from friendly to serious, “Dutch has a task for you, it’s not grocery shopping,” There it was. Hosea went on saying, “Bessie and I are going to be scouting the bank, just watching it. Dutch wants to hit the bank and head west into Oregon with the money.” Oh, oh wow. Okay. You listened intently as Hosea spoke again,

“While we’re scouting the bank,” Hosea paused and handed you several sealed envelopes, “Dutch wants you to plant these in the post office, but you have to sneak in and do so without being seen. These are fraud letters to the bank tellers, if you’re seen with the letters it will blow our cover. It all has to be anonymous.”

The sudden weight of what was happening pulled your heart into a wild flurry of directions as it tried to break from your rib cage. This was the first time you had been tasked with something related to anything illegal, or gang-related. No matter how small this was, it was still a pretty big deal for you.

“Okay,” You said quieter than a mouse. You held about five envelopes in your hands. They felt heavier than the biggest boulder on the beach. Mixed feelings swirled inside you as you started to follow Hosea and Bessie to one of the camp wagons. Nothing else was said as they sat upfront while you took to the back of the wagon were your legs could dangle off and you could watch the roads travel under you. 

A bank robbery? Nothing this intense has ever taken place in the short year you’ve been with this gang. You knew about every heist that went down, and 90% of them were stagecoach robberies, the other 10% was conning people out of their money like… like showmen or something. But… a bank robbery? Really? You’ve heard all about the stories of other banks that Dutch, Susan, and Hosea have robbed together in the past, but you never thought it’d happen now.

Something about this felt wrong. You were going to aid in the theft of innocent people’s money. You didn’t dare voice these feelings, nor did you try to ignore them either. As the ride to town started to blend together, you kept getting lost in your thoughts.

Had Arthur ever robbed a bank? No, there was no way. You heard the story about his first robbery, and how that ended in the back of a train’s bank car in the middle of New York. He’s robbed a few stage coaches…. Three or four sounded right. There was no way in hell that Annabelle or Bessie would be involved, right? Annabelle didn’t even know how to shoot a gun. She was a proper lady, madly in love with a man who seemed more of a revolutionary mastermind than a wanted criminal. Bessie was tough, she grew up on a horse ranch, she may have had money but she was no lady. She may dress like a lady when she needs too, but she was more wild and untamed than she looked. 

Susan was surely in on this. She was the strongest and most impressing of all the woman in camp. She had been a mistress, she used to run a saloon in her younger days, caring for the… ladies of the night, and teaching them how to seduce men. She grew up rough and lived rough. She feared nothing.

In a way, you looked up to Susan. Though she was quiet nasty to the other woman, she was fairly nice to you when she wanted to be. She treated you the same she treated Arthur, like children.

Before you knew it, you had gotten to town. Bessie and Hosea left the wagon abandon behind some blacksmith’s barn and nearly abandon you too.

“You know where the post office is, right?” Is all Hosea asked you, and once you nodded he was gone and so was Bessie.

Left alone, you took the muddy back roads through town. You did your best to avoid the doctor’s office as you raced between buildings. The post office was another road over, tucked behind the gunsmith and nestled next to a small shabby saloon. You hid behind the gunsmith, looking at the back door to the post office. If you were lucky, Heather was working there today. Maybe you could… trick her or something?

You were not very good at this. After a few minutes of thinking, you came up with a plan. You made your way to the back door, nervous and unsure of yourself. Without a single thought, you knocked your fist onto the door three times then bolted away to hide behind some barrels between the post office and the saloon.

A few seconds passed then someone opened the door. It was Heather! Okay… You got this. You did your best to pick up the biggest rock and you threw it at the trashcan further down the back road. Heather let out a little yelp, then called out, “Hello!?” She took the bait and like the airhead she was, she left the post office door open. She slowly headed the other direction, leaving you time to sneak up to the back door and head inside. You closed the door behind you quietly and locked it to buy you some time.

It was dark inside, and you could feel a cold draft sweep past your feet. The back of the post office smelled similar to a bookstore. You weren’t sure what to do from here. You had to plant these letters. But where? You started to panic, rushing to look around. There were walls filled with little letter cubbies. Some had names under them, some had numbers. There were carts filled with bags, and the bags were filled with letters. You fumbled in the dark, trying to read the little metal plates. Nothing seemed to be helping you though.

Heather would be back any second now. God this was so hard! And scary! What if you got caught? What would you even say?

You shook your head and ran over to another wall filled with letter cubbies. You ran fingers over each plate as your eyes dashed around looking for anything labeled “bank” or maybe “letters heading out.” 

Suddenly you found two larger cubbies on the lowest part of the wall. One was labeled “Arrivals,” while the one next to it said “Departures,” This had to be it! When you took a better look, you noticed that was only one letter sitting in the arrivals cubby. It was face down, and it had a wax seal keeping the letter closed. 

Innocently, you set your fraud letters down in the departures cubby and forgot about them within a second. You squinted in the low light and reached a hand forward towards the mystery letter. As your fingers grazed the waxy seal, you felt a wave of curiosity swallow you. Something about this letter called out to you.

The wax seal was a deep green and almost looked black in the darkness of the post office. You hesitantly touch the white paper of the envelope. Chills ran down your arm and into your spine the second you made contact with it. Your fingers curled around the corners and you lifted it up. You brought it closer to your face and glared down, trying to make out what the wax seal said. You noticed a large ‘M.D.’ within a crest, with roses clustered around it, and a doe of some kind trapped within the roses. A static sound filled your ears as you realized you had seen this crest somewhere before. The memory tugged out of the murky waters of your mind. A thud boomed from your heart, growing louder and louder in your ears.

Slowly, almost as if you didn’t want to, you turned the letter over in your hand. There was no way to describe the feeling that rushed through you when you read the name and address on that back of that letter. A breath shaky and frail left your lungs, you almost forgot to take another breath in. You felt your fingers grip the corners of the envelope so tightly that you started to tear and wrinkle the yellowing paper.

_To: Miss (Y/n) (L/n)_   
_Sugartown, Paradise Valley._   
_Nevada._

_From: Harrison McDuffy_   
_Green Point, Long Island_   
_New York._

It was so hard to breath be for some reason. Time stopped. This couldn’t be real. It was a letter… addressed to you… from no one else but your **Grandfather**. How long had this letter been sitting here? Waiting for you to find it? How…? It must have been the doctor in town! He had to have told your Grandfather you were alive and all the way out here. So many fears and questions ran through your head. The loudest question of all bled into your thoughts… What did he want?

You wanted so badly to open the letter, but a sudden and loud bang came from the backdoor. Heather was still locked outside! You nearly screamed but slapped a hand over your mouth instead. You shoved your letter into a pocket and looked around. You had to get out of here, and quickly.

You ran for the front door, no one was inside, and it was the only way out. You skid through the post office and busted out the front door into the busy and open street.

Several people looked your way, and you froze only for half a second before bolting down the street. You dashed between people and nearly got ran over by a horse, but you made it back to the wagon. Hosea and Bessie were nowhere to be seen. You crawled up into the back of the wagon and made yourself small.   
Suddenly you felt like crying and laughing at the same time. Everything felt so surreal. Your Grandfather…. Your Grandfather!!   
He knew you were alive! He was trying to contact you!

The letter burned your side, crumbled up and hidden away in your pocket. It scared you, honestly. There was no way you could have any idea what that letter said, or what your Grandfather wanted. Was he sending an army to save you? Was he aware that you were in the care of THE Dutch Van Der Linde? Did he think Dutch killed your parents and kidnapped you? 

Blinking hard, you gave a quick shake of your head and told yourself you’d open the letter once you got home. Until then, you guessed what it could hold inside it. You guessed what threats or pleads could be hidden behind that wax seal. The letter was already heavy, so you guessed how many papers it took to write angry letters. 

It didn’t matter. Nothing matter. Well… What mattered most was the Dutch knew your family had reached out and contacted you. A sharp and intruding fear crippled you instantly. How could you tell Dutch this? How on earth could you expose yourself like that? In what way was it even possible for you to approach Dutch and even bring up the idea that your family was most likely threatening him to bring you home safely? No matter what this letter said, you’d be ten times more of a burden than you already were.

No matter what the letter said, it was almost certain that it’d cause more trouble than you were worth.


	12. The Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :V HELLO HERE IS ANOTHER CHAPTER!!!!!!
> 
> THANKS FOR ALL THE SUPPORT!! MORE WILL BE POSTED SOON!!

You’d look at it every morning you woke up, and every night before bed. You’d hold it in your hands and shake a few times before shoving it back into your pillow case, and then pretend you never saw it at all. You started playing a game, how long could you go without remembering the letter your Grandfather sent you? You never went longer than 10 minutes not thinking about it.

It had nearly been two weeks. It was just so much easier to forget that your life was inches away from changing forever. It was so nice to fall back into the routine of chores, where you could blindly enjoy the peace of not knowing what that god damn letter said.

Yet today was different. You woke up this morning to a thunderstorm raging over Paradise Valley. You couldn’t leave your tent without getting soaked. No one bothered with chores, and everyone hid within their own tents or ran across camp to meet up under thin sheeted roofs around a small miserable fire. 

You were trapped. And the letter screamed at you as it sat on the barrel you used as a bedside table. You tried to ignore it by finding a book to read, but you couldn’t make up your mind as you stared into a dark chest filled with books. You were scared too say the least, and yet the mystery of the letter was still killing you.

“I’m just better off not knowing,” You muttered to yourself. You picked up the letter slowly, “I should just burn it,” Who were you talking to? The letter? Yeah… sure, “This part of my life is already dead,” You told the bent and folded envelope, “What do you want from me?” Like questioning it would get you the answers. All you had to do was open it!

It’s not that hard! Just tear the thing open already! You brought the letter up to your nose and took in a deep breath. You could smell the salty air of the Long Island Sound, the breeze that wafted over these papers as your Grandfather wrote on them. You could smell apart of your home that had been missing for years. 

There was no doubt in your mind that this letter would bring you nothing but troubles. Despite this, you almost felt safe as you bent the wax seal and flicked the envelope open. 

In the low light of your tent, with a lantern flickering beside you, you pulled the contents of the envelope out. As you tugged on some loose pages, you also managed to free something that was lodged away. You watched several dollar bills flutter free from the envelope and even a few more bent and stuck in the letter. You held one up and noticed it was a hundred dollar bill.

Why was there money in here? You collected all the loose bills and counted them up. Shocked and nearly breathless you whispered out, “A thousand dollars?” No wonder why it was so heavy. It was jammed pack with… money!! What kind of money? Blood money? Ransom money? Slave money!?! What was the meaning of all this!!

You freaked out and let out a loud groan, it was time to find out. There were two sheets of paper waiting to be read. You unfolded them and forced yourself to look.

_My Dearest Granddaughter,_

_I never thought I’d be writing those words again. Somehow I am, and somehow I have the delight to know that you are alive! It’s been months now since we have discovered the death of your mother and father. When your body wasn’t found, we thought you were lost forever, kidnapped or killed. We gave up looking only a month or two ago. But alas! My dear girl! You are alive, and according to my sources, you’re also well and healthy. I fear however you are still in harm's way._

_My sources also tell me you are under the influence… or should I say in the ‘care’ of a Mr. Dutch Van Der Linde. I do hope that he has not taken you hostage, or that he is the murderer of your parents. If so, I do hope this letter finds you safe and sound, and that this can be a sign that you will be saved. As far as I know, however, that this may not be what’s at hand, and that Mr. Van Der Linde may have even saved you. If that is the case, I owe him the handsome reward of two thousand dollars for your safe return home to us. I have enclosed in this letter half of that reward if he is willing to compromise with me. I don’t see why he wouldn’t. He’s a man of honor and business, or so I hear._

_If this is not enough to convince you to return home, then I have a final offer for you, my dear, and that is to come home and take up the family practice. I was given a little hint that you are studying to be a doctor. You are so much like your mother, she would be proud to know you are following in your family’s footsteps. Please, (Y/n), come home, and I promise to teach you the skills you are so looking to learn. Your Grandmother is worried sick, she wants me to buy up a private army and sick them after Mr. Van Der Linde, and bring you back with bloodshed._

_I am a man of peace. We just want you to come home. Do so peacefully, and Mr. Van Der Linde and his friends will go unharmed, and free of any government persecutions. I will wait to hear word from you. If I hear nothing, then I will assume that Mr. Van Der Linde has kept you hostage, and you are in harm's way. I will wait two months from the day of this letter’s departure to hear word from you._

_Come home, sweet (Y/n), you belong with us. Your family is waiting for you, we know you may have lost your mother and father, but we are still here for you. You have every right to come home, and especially if you want to follow in your mother’s footsteps. You must do her this final honor, and come home, so we can restore our family’s pride and carry on our legacy._

_Until we see each other again,_

_\- Harrison_

The thunderstorm never broke. It only seemed to get stronger. Violent thrashes of wind would rattle your thin tent walls. The chaos outside matched the panic throbbing into your bloodstream. You had to show Dutch this letter. There were no other options now, or there never was. You swallowed the rock in your throat and pushed it down into your stomach. That didn’t make it any better.

So the money is just a ransom reward? You had no idea that you even had a reward on your head. Guess that’s what happens when you move to the other side of the country. This… source that your Grandfather kept mentioning must have been the local doctor. You couldn’t even bear to remember his name, but he knew yours. 

“Hey!!” It was Arthur! You could hear his voice get closer, he must have been running around in the storm, “Open up!”

What perfect timing… Not! You abandoned your letter on your bed and took the few steps towards your tent’s little opening. You peeled back the flap and found Arthur soaked from head to toe. He invited himself in and pushed past you. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked him with a snotty tone, “I’m kind of busy,” Busy trying to figure out how to handle this crazy-ass situation.

He shook the rain from his arms and took a seat at the edge of your bed, “My tent’s being flooded by all this god damn rain,” Huh, “It’s in a low spot. Mind if I wait for the storm out here?”

You felt bad, so you just shrugged and sighed out, “Fine, I guess,” You sat down next to him and picked up your letter. There was no use hiding it anymore, you’d have to tell Dutch or risk having everyone here sent to jail or worse. How much time did you have left anyways? How long ago was this letter sent? It didn’t have a date on it or anything.

Somehow Arthur found some kind of dirty towel. He hung it on his head and dried his hair with it, “What’s that?” He asked, “Someone writing you love letters?”

“Ugh! Ew!” You snapped your gaze up to see his mocking grin, “Gross! No!” He snickered as you shoved him, “It’s worse than that,” You told him.

“Oh yeah? Try me,” He seemed so cocky and full of himself. You didn’t say anything, you just handed him the letter and watched his features melt into a mix of fear and anger. He held the letter up for a second, “What is this? A threat?”

“No,” You quickly said, “It’s… It’s a plead. I think. I haven’t told Dutch yet…” 

Arthur’s face quickly twisted up and he shook his head, “This is a load of bullshit, (Y/n). How do we even know this is really your Grandfather? Just because some crazy freak sends a letter promising mone-”

“It’s all here,” You cut Arthur off and showed him the reward money, “A grand.” 

That shut him up pretty quick. Arthur took the money and counted it himself like he didn’t believe you. He seemed really pissed off for some reason. After he rolled the grand up into a wad, he asked, “You’re not actually going to go, right?”

You didn’t know how to answer that. You shrugged and tucked the money into a spot under your pillow, “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to go? You don’t, right?” 

Something sparked in you and you snapped at him, “Why do you care? It’s… It’s my family! I should have gone back to them a long time ago!” Why was Arthur getting so invasive all of a sudden? Wouldn’t you think he’d be a little happy for you? This was your family after all, and they really seemed to want you to come home. It was the right thing to do, wasn’t it?

“You didn’t want to though! I will never forget the day I met you and we gave you a choice, (Y/n), and you choose to come with us. You chose this life! You had the chance to go back to them and you chose this!” He was getting angry and frustrated for no reason. He would never understand this.

Why were you arguing about this! You shook your head and glared up at him, “What if I don’t want this life!” Your words froze Arthur, but not in the way you’d think. He was shocked at your tone of voice, you sounded so sad. He didn’t expect you to sound sad, “I’m…! Not like you guys, Arthur! I’m not like Dutch! I’m not even like Bessie! I… I can’t be a killer. I can’t rob people! It’s wrong! I feel wrong all the time. I feel like I’m only hurting people and I never want to do that! I never want to cause someone that kind of pain!”

You were far more worked up about this than he was now. You were ready to burst into tears. This was so frustrating! You were already confused and hurting, Arthur fighting you about this wasn’t making it any better. He could see that now. He was only so angry because he knew it was a trick and you were falling right for it. You balled your fists up and spoke again, “I don’t know. I have a chance to… I don’t know.” It was so hard to explain. You didn’t want this life, you didn’t want to live like an outlaw. You had a chance to change that, and honestly, what’s so wrong about taking that chance? “I want to be something… Arthur. I want to be more than just another outlaw. This life isn’t for me. How can I say no? I… I’d be going home,” Your voice grew quiet, barely above a whisper, “I… I have to do this. It’s what my mother would have wanted.”

Somehow he understood what you were trying to say, but he still had to ask, “But what about what you want?” There was a plead in his voice, “You can’t live for other people.”

The answer came naturally, “I want to do this for her. I want to make her proud… Where ever she is. I want her to know I’m doing my best.” 

“Okay well… Let’s say you write back to him. Tell him everything is fine and you want to go home, then what? What if he’s lying and he turns us in? Frames us for your parent's murder and your kidnapping?”

You didn’t think that’d happen, “He won’t,” You had a feeling your grandfather was an honest man or at least a man of his word. From what you could remember your mother telling you, your grandfather was pretty okay.

“Then you just… leave? That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Was it really that simple? You hoped so. You desperately wanted to get out of here, you wouldn’t share that with Arthur. But you didn’t want to walk the path you were heading down. You had no future here, with them… the gang. Everyone knew it too, they all did but no one would openly admit it.

The thunderstorm had still shown no sign of letting up. It seemed to get even worse out there. It was getting darker and darker. You knew nightfall wasn’t far away as chilly bursts of wind fluttered into your tent. Arthur was probably going to get stuck in here for the night. That was fine, you honestly enjoyed the company. The letter was pretty world-shattering. 

You took a few scoots back until you were leaning against a stiff wall. Your tent was right beside a wagon, blocking most of the storm, “You think Dutch will take it well?” You asked Arthur.

He joined you and took one large scoot back. He still had the towel on his head. You pulled it off him as he muttered out, “Maybe. There’s a lot of money involved. He might like that.” 

You let out a stiff chuckle as you tossed the towel to an open suite case full of dirty clothes, “Him and Hosea’ll wanna drip every cent dry from my Grandfather.”

“Hm, ha! Yeah,” Arthur’s voice was light and airy as he forced a small laugh. You could hear the nervousness in his words, “I don’t really know what will happen, it’s…. it’s scary.” 

You couldn’t agree more. It was terrifying! What would Dutch say? How much time did you have left until a literal army swept across the land to find you? What would happen if you left? All these thoughts spun around at light speed inside your mind. A loud cackle of lightening scattered across the sky and pools of light leaked into your tent for a second. 

It was all too much. You leaned onto Arthur’s shoulder and closed your eyes, listening to the storm scream above you. As you started to daze in and out of sleep, only to be jumped awake by another wave of lightning across the sky, Arthur watched you from the corner of his gaze.

While you gave in to the sleep burning your eyes, Arthur’s mind sailed adrift. He felt a strange and overwhelming feeling inside his chest. It was a toxic feeling. It stuck to his insides like tar and bubbled around until his heart grew heavy. The thought of you leaving scared him. Yet at the same time, he didn’t want to admit that, he didn’t want to admit how attached he’d gotten to this little girl he rescued on a whim. You’d only been in the gang for little over a year, going on two.

His brows furrowed as he looked over to the letter sitting quietly beside your bed. He wanted to take it and tear it up. Burn it. Throw it away. Keep it from Dutch. Why couldn’t this just be your guy’s little secret? You didn’t have to… leave. 

This was hard for him to admit, but you were the closest thing Arthur had to a friend. You may have been three years younger than him, and still barely a child. But you were the only one who understood him and how he was viewed by the gang. He could go to you about anything. You’d listen with a smile and somehow crack a half-assed joke and everything would be okay. He didn’t want to lose that. A sudden and familiar wave of loneliness washed over him in a series of chills. 

The truth was, you were leaving, and in reality, you didn’t have a choice. Maybe you didn’t see it that way, but Arthur did. He tried his best to ignore the fact that you admitted your hatred for this lifestyle. So what? Outlaws stuck together, chasing freedom and running form the law was a way of life. It was this way because life cheated him, and cut him short, and this was the only life he knew. Sure, it wasn’t pretty. Sure… People died and… Sure he was the one to kill them. But it wasn’t for nothing! It was to… to live! Dutch never stole, he only saved, he only recycled and renewed the old. He gave second chances when all hope is lost.

You let out a little snore and curled into a ball beside Arthur. A frown was on his face. There was nothing he could do, you were leaving and he was going to hurt from it.

Bitterly, he felt hatred towards you. He told himself that this wasn’t about him though. If you were truly unhappy here, and you wanted to go home, he couldn’t stop you. He let out a tiny, toxic little chuckle. There was no way on the face of this planet that you would ever choose him and gang over your family. He pushed that resentment down into a tiny little dark part of his heart. There wasn’t much time left. 

As the thunderstorm raged on, he closed his eyes and listened to the rain splatter into the mud while the wind flustered in the treetops above. There was only one certain thought that rang in his ears. He’d miss you. He’d miss you like hell.

______________________________________________________________________________________

  
Morning doves cooed out from the misty forest floor. They fluttered in the pools of rainwater, shaking their feathers out and cleaning themselves from the night before. A cold breeze wafted into your tent and you shivered. Alone. Blankets covered you, and your head was on the wrong side of your bed. You shot up quickly and looked around. 

Sunlight twinkled in from the gaps of your tent. You could hear muffled talking coming from the heart of the camp. Something didn’t feel right. You snapped upright and your eyes immediately went for the letter. It was gone! Where was it!  
Where was Arthur!

You didn’t even change your clothes. You fumbled to get your boots on and dashed out of your tent into the wet soggy morning. You followed the sounds of low mumbled words and whispers. It wasn’t long before you found yourself halting before Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur. Dutch sat in front of a table, with Hosea and Arthur lurking over his shoulders.

Dutch had the letter on the table before him. The money was there too. They all looked up at you. Ice cold, you froze in place. Fear crippled you and you couldn’t breathe. 

“(Y/n),” Dutch’s voice was flat, “Good morning,” He waved his hand and beckoned you to come forward. It took you a second, then you finally approached the table. He kept his gaze locked on yours, “Arthur was just telling me about this,” He paused and tapped the letter on the table, “How long have you had this?”

“Not long,” You lied smoothly, “A few days maybe,” You did your best to keep your voice leveled and your eyes from tearing up, “I… I was going to show you-”

“I’m sure you were,” Dutch cut you off. You couldn’t tell if he was mad or not, “But I don’t understand why you didn’t come to be the second you got this letter?” Ah, there it was. You knew this would come back to bite you.

“I-” You paused for a second and looked at Arthur. You felt a wave of shame, anger and betrayal wash over you. Why did he do this? Why did he steal your letter and show it to Dutch? You quickly looked to the ground, “I was scared,” You spoke in a tiny voice as your lip started to tremble.

“Why?” Hosea spoke out quickly. You winced at the sound of his voice. A tear welled up in your eye and you quickly rammed the palm of your hands into your eyes.

“Because!” You caught them all off guard with your quick yell, “I’m putting all of you in danger!” You wanted to say more, but you were scared to admit to Dutch and Hosea that you wanted to leave.

It didn’t really matter, Arthur was on a rage train and he was out to get you, “And you want to leave!” He barked out, “You’re falling for this obvious trick!”

“Arthur!” Dutch’s yell echoed out into the morning. It was loud enough to scare the birds from the treetops, “Enough!” He looked back to you with a different glare, “Is this true? Do you want to leave?”

You couldn’t lie. The dam was broken and the tears ran down your face, “Yes,” You spoke softly and nodded your head. You couldn’t say anything else. Your throat burned and bubbles welled in your chest, causing pain and sobs to overtake you. Why was this so hard? Why did you feel so guilty?

Nothing was said for a few seconds. Arthur was fighting the urge to storm off, Dutch was still surprisingly calm, and Hosea just seemed worried. You looked up at them and you’re eyes grew wide to see the sad look on Dutch’s face, “You don’t really have much of a choice, I think,” He admitted, “You have a ransom on your head, (Y/n). A huge one. I don’t want to hand you over for the money. Are you sure this is what you want? You can stay, I don’t care if this…. Grandfather of yours sends the whole United States Army after me. He doesn’t scare me.” 

He should. But you couldn’t say that. You lost your voice. Hosea walked around the table between the both of you and cautiously approached you. He got down to your level while meeting your gaze, “(Y/n), you’re not in trouble,” You looked up at him and Hosea took the chase to run his thumbs under your eyes and clear away the stream of tears, “We just want to keep you safe. We’re family.”

It broke your heart to hear that because you knew what he was saying was true. You sucked the snot back up into your nose and let out a small hiccup, “I have to, Hosea,”

You could see him getting ready to tell you otherwise but you rushed your words out, “I do. I feel it in my heart, this is the right thing to do. I need to do this. I want to. I… I want to go home.” 

“We understand,” He smiled softly, “You’re one of us, but you’re also nothing like us. You came from a loving family and had that stolen away from you. If we didn’t save you, you may have not of gotten this second chance to go back home to your family.” It was so relieving to hear him say that. It was the total opposite of what Arthur said, and how he made you feel. 

Dutch had made his way over to you as well. He placed a hand on your shoulder and gave a firm squeeze, “I’m gonna hate seeing you go, little lady. But I know you need this. I wish we all could get a second chance like you have,” He paused and shared a glance with Hosea before going to say, “I’m going to personally write back to your grandfather,” he suddenly cracked a half-assed smile, “I hope you don’t mind if I keep the money?”

A single giggle rolled from your chest, “No, it’s okay. You need it more than them.”

“Excellent! I’ll see what I can do. Don’t you worry, girl,” Dutch paused and sighed, “Everything will be alright.” You sure hope it would be.

When you looked back to the table to find Arthur, he was gone. Your heart may have felt lighter, but it was still sinking in your chest. Arthur was being a real snot about this. He obviously didn’t want you to go. He thought if he ratted you out to Dutch, that they’d fight to keep you here too. Arthur forgot that he was still an emotional, stubborn, irrational teenager. Anyone could see it wasn’t right to keep you here, especially since you wanted to leave. Why did he have to act like this? Why couldn’t he just support you and be happy for you? It’s not every day that something like this happens, threat or not.

_________________________________________________________________

  
It all happened so fast. Dutch sent out a letter in your name, to your grandfather, accepting these very one-sided terms. Arthur had flipped like a coin and kept his distance not only from you, but everyone else in the camp. He disappeared for hours, then days, and only come back to get more food or ammo. He’d drop off money, or other valuables and then run out of camp again. It was clear that he was very upset about you leaving. 

You could understand why. You guys were very close. You were the only friend he has ever had. And now he was losing that. He was the one who found you and saved you that terrible night in your home. It wasn’t like you wanted to leave him. You didn’t want to leave any of the gang behind. In a perfect world, you could bring them with you.

But that wasn’t this world. This was the one where you were only two days away from leaving. Dutch and your grandfather exchanged several letters. You were sent a one-way ticket straight to New York City. And Dutch was sent another grand to complete your reward. 

You were also given a few gifts from your grandparents. All of them were… Not that great. A girly frilly and heavy dress was sent. It was a little to big, but Annabelle could fix that. You managed to get a pair of shoes that somehow where the right size too. However, it didn’t matter to you. The one thing you always hated was wearing dresses. Your mother made you wear them when you went out, on vacations, or anywhere beyond your property. You loved the freedom of being able to just wear pants and shirts. Being a lady wasn’t in your nature. Nor was being an outlaw. 

There wasn’t much of a choice for you though. You wanted to be stubborn and refuse to wear the dress when you returned home. However, you knew that wouldn’t go over well with your grandparents. They heavily expressed in their last letter how important it was that you were well bathed, clean-cut, and dressed properly. Their exact words were, “We will have no tomboy hooligan little girl coming home. We expect a proper lady.” 

But you wanted this. You wanted to go home, and with that, you’d have to conform to their rules. You were busying yourself with packing one of the two suitcases you could bring with you. You were outside your tent with piles of your personal things. You felt wave after wave of panic swells around inside you. There was no way you could bring everything with you. You had too many shirts, pants, socks and belts and not enough… dresses. 

Frustrated, and knowing you couldn’t take half your clothes, you threw the shirt in your hand back into your tent. You were left with packing very few things. A couple of books, some photos of your mother and father, the hunting knife that Arthur gave you, and several other small things that could fit between everything else. 

In the distance, you could hear the sound of hooves stomping closer and closer to camp. You perked up, looking over the shrubs and towards the hitching posts a few meters away. Instantly you asked yourself if it was Arthur. It’s been so long since he had spoken to you, or anyone else in camp. As the date of your departure got closer, you feared you’d never get the chance to speak to him again.

Your gut was right, Arthur stormed into camp on his horse, which was loaded with fallen animals. He dragged into two turkeys, several squirrels, and several other pelts laying messy behind his saddle. He quickly slid off his mount and left the dead animals in a pile near the little smoking fire that Hosea was tending too. They spoke, but you couldn’t hear what they said. You took that as a reason to get up and run over. 

As you got closer to them, Arthur looked up sooner than Hosea and he locked eyes with you before glaring and getting ready to storm off. You wanted to stop him. Whatever was going on between the two of you, Hosea pick up on. 

Innocently he asked, “Another prank gone wrong?” He never looked up from stirring the embers burning away in the fire pit.

“No!” Arthur barked back, with such an irrational rage that even took Hosea back. 

Before Arthur could storm off, Hosea quickly said, “You’ve been running out of camp enough. You’re not going anywhere. Did you catch these? You skin ‘em.” 

“But what about my pelts? I was going to sell-”

Hosea threw down his stick and got up slowly, “I’ll sell them,” 

“But!”

He threw up a hand and silenced Arthur quickly, “Enough,” He spoke more calmly than you expected. Hosea pulled out a knife from his backside and handed it to Arthur,

“Get working,” Arthur took the knife with some hint of attitude. He was such a snot sometimes. 

When Hosea left, he walked past you and the two of you shared a glance. He smiled and winked, telling you he was on your side and that this was your chance to talk to Arthur. 

Now the two of you were standing there awkwardly. Arthur huffed a breath and sat down on the log beside the fire and grabbed the first turkey. He started plucking every feather and tossing them into the fire, making the camp smell of burning, toxic like smoke. He wouldn’t look at you.

You were to afraid to do anything. You couldn’t move, speak, or even breath. You just stood there and started to twist the tip of your boot into the dirt.

However, much to your relief, Arthur finally spit some words out, “What do you want?” His voice twisted with irritation. His attitude was more rotten and bitter than Susan without her morning cigarette. 

His words made you flinch, but inside you felt a rage grow and crawl out of your chest. You stomped a foot down, fists balled at your sides and a glare pointed right at Arthur,

“Why are you being so mean!?” That got him to look at you, “You’ve been a dick ever since! Ever since I got that stupid letter!” You felt emotions overwhelm you and for some reason, you almost cried, “I wish I never got it! I wish I wasn’t leaving!” Arthur stared back at you, wide-eyed and frozen on the spot, “You’ve been a real jerk! If I never got that letter then I wouldn’t be losing the only friend I’ve ever had!” 

Little did you know, but everyone was watching you two at this point. Though they hid well behind bushes, tents, and wagons. You had also started to cry, but you ignored the little tears that welled in your eyes.

“I don’t get it! You were fine! And now that I’m leaving you won’t even talk to me! Even though I’m leaving I still thought we’d be friends! I… I could have written letters to you! I could come back one day! I could have sent money! I… I want to be friends even if I’m on the other side of the country… I… Just because I’m not here it doesn’t mean I’m gone.” 

What a god damn… Arthur was a stubborn, selfish, blind fool. He was so pissed off at the fact that you were leaving, that he didn’t realize he was burning bridges in the process. Sure, he was madder than hell that you were leaving. And yeah, there was no certain way of knowing that you’d ever see each other again. But if you did… And it turned out you hated each other. Arthur didn’t want it to end that way.

He didn’t suddenly shift gears and magically forgive you. It’d take more time, but he knew he was being a dick about it. You proved your point.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur went pack to yanking feathers out of the turkey. He couldn’t look at you, at least he was talking to you though. 

You were still mad, “You should be more than sorry! You!” You paused and rubbed the tears away, “You need to make it up to me,” Like a skilled con artist, you pulled out the pouty face and tried your best to weasel your way into Arthur’s day. You didn’t want him to go back to ignoring you. You had two days left before you’d possibly never see him again.

“I’m kind of busy,” He was trying his best to not be a dick. It was kind of hard. 

“I can help,” You offered, much to his surprise.

“Then what?”

You walked around the fire pit and sat down next to him. You grabbed the other turkey and started to pluck away feather after feather, “Then you can take me to town,” 

“Town?” Arthur looked up quickly and glared at you. Where you stupid? He was about to ask, but he held his tongue, “Why?” He asked instead. 

“It’s gonna be my last time out here, I want to get something to remember it by.” Your answer was so simple and so easy, he didn’t expect it. 

“Fine.” How could he say no to that? You smiled to yourself in victory.

“Thank you.” 

Arthur’s only response was one mild and low hum. From then on, the two of you sat in silence. But it was welcomed and neither of you felt the need to talk. It only took a few moments to pluck the turkeys and skin the squirrels. They were handed off to Susan who muttered a few times under her breath and took the game to be cooked into a meal.

You were instantly ready to go to town. You skipped over to the hitching post and freed Callous. Seconds before mounting him, you froze. Arthur got there a second later and gave you a side glance.

“What’s your problem?”

With a heavy feeling in your chest, you spoke with a weak voice, “I can’t take Callous with me…”

“So?”

“SO!!” You snapped your head to Arthur and glared at him.

He was already mounted on his own horse. He didn’t seem to even notice the problem here! You quickly climbed into your saddle and frowned. With a roll of his eyes, Arthur shook his head and said, “We ain’t selling him. He’s a strong horse. Hosea would skin all of us alive if anything happened to him.”   
You breathed a sigh of relief knowing that Callous was going into good hands. Still, your heart laid low in your chest knowing that these were your last few hours with him. 

Arthur in the meantime kept reminding himself that this was the right thing to do. Even if it made him feel like shit. It was hard to control his feelings, and his emotions, he wasn’t sure how to confront all of them at once. So he remained silent, with a furrowed brow a scowl on his face. He wish he could be like Dutch or Hosea, with a hat on his head to cover his face. To bad Mother Hen Susan would throw a bitch fit if he dared to wear a hat. She always demanded that he dress clean cut. He was almost due for another hair cut. 

You chose to ride beside Arthur, going at a steady trot. When you looked over at him, he seemed as grumpy as ever. But you smiled at that. He was his usually grumpy self, the Arthur that put up with you and went along with your games. 

He seems distracted though in a way. He kept watching the grassy sides of the road. You caught him looking around at the ground, across the fields, squinting and staring into the distance like he was looking for something. Arthur eventually spurred his horse and sped off when his eyes locked onto some hills just outside Sugartown. You raced after him without a word, chasing close behind. 

At the largest hill overlooking the town, Arthur found himself jumping off his beloved beast and into the golden grassy grounds below. He somehow had found small, little flowers just barely peeking above the grass. The bright orange buds springing from pink like mushrooms. It was otherworldly.

How on earth did he see that from all the way over there? You dismounted from your mustang and joined him, squatting before a patch of flowers you’ve never seen before.

Arthur pulled out his hunting knife and started to dig the blubs out one buy one. There was about four.

“What are these?”

“I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know? Then why are you picking them? Are they flowers or mushrooms?”

“Not sure. I didn’t think they’d grow this far east.”

You made a flat face and rolled your eyes, “This isn’t very far east at all.”

“It is for me,” Arthur tucked very last… flower… into his satchel And that was the end of that. He said nothing more about it and climbed back into his saddle.

Meanwhile, you stood there, still confused and a little dumbfounded. So you asked a second time, “Why did you do that?”

While you got back on Callous, Arthur clicked his tongue and snap his reins, ushering his horse to go forward, “Their flowers that use to grow out near my home.” 

His home? You weren’t sure if Arthur ever had a home at all. He rarely spoke about his life before the gang. All you could say was, “Oh… so… you like them?” You felt a little stupid asking that. 

He didn’t say anything for a while. You grew closer and closer to town before he finally said, “My ma loved collecting those things,” He said slowly, “Good luck charm as such. I think she said they’d ward off anything evil or bad. She’d have ‘em all over the house. In every window and next to every bed. They smell like oranges for some reason.”

“Hm,” You weren’t sure how to feel. Though you were glad Arthur opened up to you, “That’s really nice that you have those to remember her by. I feel that way every time I see roses. Pink or orange ones especially.” 

Arthur hummed back, “Yeah, somethin’ like that,” He still seemed distant and a little out of it. The two of you came in from the back end of town. You passed the post office on your way in and half expected Arthur to dismount and run inside to see Heather. He didn’t though. You entered on the main drag of town and found a place to hitch your horses. 

It didn’t take long for Arthur to growl out, “Alright kid, what do you want?”

You weren’t sure, “There’s a trading post behind the saloon,” You suggested, “Let's dig around in other people’s trash,” You flashed a smile onto your face, looking up to Arthur.

It took a second, but a little grin squeezed onto his face, “Okay, lead the way.” 

You skipped ahead with Arthur trailing a few feet behind you. The townspeople paid you no mind. They went on with their day as you went on with yours. The trading post here in town was also some sort of front. You could sell things here illegally and get illegal things here as well. This is were Dutch and Hosea sold 90% of the things they stole. 

When you walked inside a musty smell found its way into the back of your nose. There was some odd mix of stale body odor, dust, and mold. It was dark inside the trading post, with little natural light but dozens of lanterns strung around. It didn’t seem quite safe to have so many flames lightening up the place.

Arthur followed close behind you as the two of you ventured further into the makeshift store. A tall, skinny, old and boney look man was sitting in a rocking chair behind a counter and cash register He paid you no mind, and you did the same in return.

“What are you looking for?” Arthur asked. He found himself interested in an old looking book sitting on a shelf.

“I don’t know,” You confessed, “Anything that pops out to me,” You didn’t see anything in mind. It was hard to see anyways with the lack of sunlight and windows. There were some odd things here and there. You saw some old masks, some clay bowls. For some reason, there was a coin purse full of coins. 

“Hey, (Y/n)?” Arthur called to you from a different part of the store. You followed the sound of his voice and found him in a corner, holding up a taxidermy frog. He gave you a crooked, goofy smile, “What about this?”

“Ew!” You swatted a hand at him, trying to keep the old dusty frog away from you, “No!” He started to chase you with it but only got a few steps in before the store owner let out a growl of a cough.

Arthur put the frog away and you went back to sifting through stuff. You eventually found a dust old looking hat. It was dark and made of leather. It already pretty worn, with what looked like rope tangled twice around it into a knot. It was on coat rack, just hanging there. You couldn’t even find a price tag. 

“What’s that?” Arthur nearly scared the living shit out of you. He smirked when you jumped and held back a yell.

“It’s a hat,” You said reaching for it. You’re fingers just barely brushed the rim of the hat, knocking it to the ground. 

When you picked it up, dusted away the dirt, you held it up into the light. It smelled odd, but not in a bad way. It smelled like pinewood and smoke.

“That’s weird,” Arthur said while eyeing the hat. He didn’t give you a chance to question him, he quickly went on to say, “My pa use to have a hat that looked just like this.” 

“Really?”

He nodded his head. You took the hat in both hands and put it on your head. It was a little to big and fell forward slightly, but you beamed up to Arthur anyways, “How do I look?”

With a slight chuckle and a little smile lifting the corner of his lip, Arthur said, “Like a real cowboy.” 

You laughed and took the hat off and quickly jumped up and smacked the hat onto Arthur’s head. Surprised, he swatted your hands away and took a step back, “It looks better on you,” You said with an even bigger smile.

You watched him hang his head, fix the hat so it fit right, and slowly look up to you. Something about the way he looked at you made you nervous. Your stomach twisted into a knot and you felt a tickle in the back of your throat. He looked really good. The hat made him look more mature and less like a snotty teenager. 

“You think?” He asked, honestly curious. 

You grabbed him by his hand with a nod of your head, “Lets buy it!” You pulled him to the front desk and paid for the hat. It was only ten dollars.

“I thought we were getting something for you?” Arthur protested. 

That was true, but you had a better idea. You wanted something else. Something far better than some silly trinket to remember this life by. He kept the hat on, much to your pleasure, as you left the trading post and head back into the busy town roads. Arthur pestered you so more, asking a question about what was going on and why the change of plans.

You ignored him for those few moments while you looked up and down the streets, dragging him here and there while in search for your destination. Finally! You saw it! 

“There!” You pointed. Down the road you saw a little sign in the shape of a camera hanging off the side of the building, “I want a picture,” You admitted.  
Arthur quickly shook his head, waving his hands and trying to hide his face, “No!” He said quickly, “Why? They’re…. They’re weird! I’ve…. I’ve never even had my picture taken before.”

“So? It’ll be fun! We can each get one!” You faced Arthur and slapped your hands together, holding your entangled fingers up to your nose while whining out, “Pleeeaaaseee!”

There was a moment there when Arthur struggled to fight your pleading face. He gave in though, with a heavy sigh and frown knitted to his lips, he grumbled and took the lead into the little store.

The shop owner was a cute busty little woman and a tall skinny man that appeared to be her husband. Clearly she was running the show here. Her husband sat bored and preoccupied with a newspaper behind the counter he rested his feet upon. 

“Hello!” The storeowner said with a large smile, “How can I help you today?” She seemed overly happy that the both of you walked into her business. 

You let out a nervous laugh, intimidated by her kindness, “You take photos, right?” You asked. Arthur stood beside you, slightly off-put and growing annoyed already.

“Oh, I don’t have all these cameras and pictures laying around just for fun,” Her smile grew even wider, “The two of you? That will be twenty dollars.”

“Twenty dollars?” Arthur let out a yell, “Lady, you are crazy. I could buy a new horse with that kind of money!”

She only smiled back, this time showing her teeth, “They don’t call me Perfect Picture Patty for nothing kids.” For some reason, you didn’t believe that was her actual name.

Nor that anyone called her that either, “Look at all these photos I’ve already taken. Lifelike! Pristine! Emotional! These are all the must-have, perfect qualities that any photograph must have!”

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat, then the soft turn of newspaper pages. This… Patty blind and her smile feel for a second. She turned back to her husband and let out a yell, “Get up!” He didn’t move, “Be a dear… And do your job!” He lowered the newspaper only enough to reveal his eyes. 

He had half-moon glasses on, and a bald spot on the very top of his head. His stone-cold face never changed once. He set down his paper, folding it into a perfect square and then got up. He walked over to the camera without a sound, then stood there silently, waiting to take a picture. 

Patty somehow sneaked behind you and pushed you and Arthur along to the simple backdrop. There was a barrel there only a foot shorter than you that had flowers in a jar.

Patty put you on the left side of the barrel and Arthur on the right. You were both so confused by the chaotic nature of Patty, she skipped away and stood beside her husband.

“Hold yourselves still,” She said while waving her hand at you quickly, “Pick a pose. Try and hold it!” 

This was more of a shit show than you expected. They didn’t even take your money yet, but here they were, ready to take your photo. You shared a second glance with Arthur. He looked just as flustered and confused as you. But in that second you were both able to share a smile. A bright white flash shocked you as a cloud of smoke blasted into the air.

“Oh! Dammit! You were supposed to stay still!” Patty’s smile was finally gone, “We’ll have to take it again!”

“We… Don’t have forty dollars to spend,” You said slowly. 

Patty rolled her eyes and took the film from the camera. She looked at it, then shook her head, “I can’t even charge you twenty for this,” She showed you the film, “You don’t look professional at all. You look like children who can’t sit still.”

You looked at the film and saw a negative version of what would be a photo. It looked… fine to you. It actually looked better than you expected. You didn’t have that stupid stiff, stoic face that everyone made in every photo ever. You didn’t look serious at all. Patty was right on that. But… You were smiling. And so was Arthur. The photo captured a perfect moment. Arthur was standing beside you, looking down slightly to share a glance with you while you gazed up with a smile that matched his. He had his hat on yet you could still see his face.

“We’ll take it,” You said much to Patty’s surprise.

“Oh… kay,” Her confusion amused you, she went back to her little office behind the counter and used the film to make a photograph. She waited for you at the cash register, where she charged you fifteen dollars instead for two copies of the photograph. 

It was perfect. You kept looking at it, amazed that a photo could look so normal and relaxed. As you and Arthur walked out of the store, he tucked his own photo away into his satchel, “I am never going to get another photo taken if I have to go through that again,” 

You let out a little laugh, “It was fun. I liked it.” 

Arthur let out some kind of grown, “Come on,” He changed the topic, “Let’s get home.”

As he walked head, you kept looking at your photo. You were so glad you took it, and even more glad that you and Arthur were talking again. It made it a lot less scary to leave in less than 48 hours. You finally tucked to photo away, chased after Arthur and braced yourself for the biggest change of your life. 


End file.
